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Brave Belgians 



From the French of 

Baron C. Buffin 

By 

Alys Hallard 

Preface by 
Baron de Broqueville 

Belgian Minister of War 



Awarded the Audiffred Prize by the French Academy of 
Moral and Political Science 



G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York and London 

TLbe fmfcherbocfcer. press 

1918 



K X 



Copyright, iqi8 

by 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 



MAR -9 1913 



Ube Itnfcfterbocfcer Dresa, flew Jfiorft 

©GI.A481986 



I 



Foreword 

St. Pierrebrouck. 
January 15, 1916. 

My dear Friend: 

I am glad to hear that you have now completed the 
work you undertook of collecting, from our soldiers 
themselves, these accounts of the war. They will cer- 
tainly help people to know, and to appreciate, what 
you so rightly call our heroic and valiant Belgium. 

You could not have employed your talent and acti- 
vity in a better way. As it is not yet possible to write 
the History of the tragic days we are living, it is 
highly necessary to collect the most striking episodes, 
and to prevent the loss of testimony to which posterity 
can appeal when it wishes to judge the men and things 
of our times. The accounts that you have collected 
so patiently help us to live over again the whole cam- 
paign, from the startling revelation which the glorious 
days of Liege were for many of us, down to the hard 
moments through which our army is passing in its 
victorious defence of the Yser. 

"The determined resistance," our King called it 
in his memorable speech to Parliament. How we see 
this determined resistance in the magnificent enthu- 
siasm of our soldiers, arresting, around the Liege 
forts, the first wave of invaders, without troubling 
about the human torrent rolling onwards towards 
them from the whole of Germany! How we see it, 

iii 



iv Foreword 

too, in the tragic episodes of the invasion, in the 
bold adventures of our volunteers, in those glorious 
deaths of which your book reminds us, deaths of 
which we cannot think without a pang at our hearts ! 

Your accounts prove to us how the unanimous will 
of the nation galvanised the army and how the ex- 
ample of our chiefs, from the King down to the merest 
sub-lieutenant, encouraged and brought about the 
most noble self-sacrifices. These accounts prove to 
us, thanks to many details of episodes lived through 
during these eighteen months of war, what a quantity 
of virtues our magnificent little army, brave and 
studious as it is, held in reserve for the hour of 
danger. 

Well-known figures and deeply regretted friends 
are evoked in these pages by their sorrowful comrades. 
These rapid sketches, written in campaign diaries by 
those who " shared the same dangers and sacrificed 
everything to the same cause, have a special value. 
The modesty of the man who tells the story is still 
another homage rendered to the whole Corps, and it is 
to the Army, to the traditional, disciplined, national 
force, that our admiration goes out, when we read of 
the fine deeds described in this book. 

On reading it, the country will better understand 
the affection and respect it owes to the soldier from 
whom it may demand, some future day, all that those 
of our day have endured and given. 

In your former book, you retraced for us the early 
life of Leopold I., our first king. When I congratu- 
lated you on your conscientious work, in depicting 
for us the early days of the man who has very justly 
been called Leopold the Wise, I little thought that 
you would soon be the chronicler of the army of his 



Foreword v 

grandson, acknowledged by the whole world, as the 
champion of loyalty and honour, the incarnation of 
an oppressed and valiant country. 

How times have changed since then ! 

The horizon is brightening, though, and I hope 
that, in order to complete your work, you may be 
able to connect the past with the present and sketch 
for us the History of this gigantic struggle, in which 
the indomitable courage of the Belgians, led by Albert 
I., will have preserved, for our country, the Indepen- 
dence, and the Liberty that the political spirit of our 
fathers had won for it under the reign of Leopold. 

Accept, my dear friend, my best wishes, 

Broqueville. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

The Defence of Vise i 

From the account given by Deputy Staff Major 
Collyns of the 12th Line Regiment. 

CHAPTER II 

The First German Flag Taken . . 10 

From the account given by Deputy Staff Major 
Collyns of the 12th Line Regiment. 

CHAPTER III 

The Attack on the Offices of the 3RD 

Division 17 

From accounts by General Major Stassin, Comman- 
ders Vincotte and Buisset, Captains Lhermite and 
Renard, Adjutant Burlet and Private Poncelet. 

CHAPTER IV 

The Sart-Tilman Combat .... 24 

From an account given by Pere de Groote, Army 
Chaplain to the 1st Regiment of Unmounted 

Chasseurs, and completed by Major N of the 

4th Regiment of Unmounted Chasseurs. 

CHAPTER V 
The Retreat of the 800 .... 34 

By Captain of the 14th Line Regiment. 

CHAPTER VI 

Chaudfontaine 41 

By Count Gaston de Ribaucourt, Sub-Lieutenant of 
the Heavy Howitzer Corps. 



viii Contents 

CHAPTER VII 

PAGE 

Loncin Fort 51 

From accounts by the Army Doctors: Maloens, of 
the 3rd Battery of Heavy Howitzers ; Courtin, of the 
1st Chasseurs; Roskam, of the 14th Line Regiment; 
Defalle, Director of the Calais Municipal Creche 
Ambulance; and Quartermaster Krantz, of the 
Gendarmerie. 

CHAPTER VIII 

HAELEN . . . . . .63 

By Colonel Baltia, Chief of Staff of the 1st Cavalry 
Division. 

CHAPTER IX 

The Budingen Combat .... 77 

Death of Lieutenant Count W. d'Ursel. By Colonel 
de Schietere de Lophem, Commander of the 4th 
Lancers. 

CHAPTER X 

Aerschot ....... 87 

From the report of Captain Commander Gilson, com- 
manding the 4th Company of the 1st Battalion of 
the 9th Line Regiment. 

CHAPTER XI 
A Few Episodes of the Retreat of Namur . 96 

By Captain Paulis, Artillery Commander. 
CHAPTER XII 

Death of Corporal Tresignies . . .113 

From the account given by First Sergeant- Major 

of the 2nd Regiment of Unmounted Chasseurs. 



Contents ix 



CHAPTER XIII 



PAGE 



The First Attack of the Retrenched Camp 

of Antwerp . . . . .116 

By Father Henusse, S. J., Army Chaplain to the 84th 
Artillery Battery. 

CHAPTER XIV 

The Re-Taking of Aerschot . . .122 

By Sub-Lieutenant Ch. Dendale of the 7th Line 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER XV 

A Fine Capture 127 

By Staff Deputy Captain Courboin. 
CHAPTER XVI 

The Second Sortie from Antwerp . .131 

Episode of the Battle before Over-de-Vaert (Haecht). 
By Lieutenant L. Chardome of the 14th Line 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER XVII 
The ist Regiment of Lancers . . .140 

By Staff Deputy Colonel E. Joostens. 

CHAPTER XVIII 
The Termonde Bridge . . . .150 

By a n officer of the 4th Artillery Regiment. 

CHAPTER XIX 
The No. 7 Armoured Car . . . .155 

By Sub-Lieutenant G. Thiery, of the ist Regiment of 
Guides, in command of the group of armoured cars 
of the ist Cavalry Division. 



x Contents 

CHAPTER XX 

PAGE 

The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat . . 169 

By Sub- Lieutenant Henroz, in command of the 1st 
Company of the 1st Battalion of the 2nd Regiment 
of Fortress Carabineers. 

CHAPTER XXI 

The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort . 184 

By an officer of the garrison. 

CHAPTER XXII 

Prisoner in the Soltau Camp . . .197 

From the account given by Amand Hasevoets, First 
Sergeant of the Regiment of Fortress Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER XXIII 

The Last Fragments of Antwerp . . 209 

By Artillery Captain M C . 

CHAPTER XXIV 
TOURNAI . .'-••. 228 

By General-Major Frantz. 

CHAPTER XXV 
DlXMUDE . . . . . . . 236 

From an account given by Ernest Collin, a private of 
the 1 2th Line Regiment, and completed by Ernest 
Job, a corporal in the same regiment. 

CHAPTER XXVI 
Eight Days in Dixmude . . . .256 

Extracts from the Diary of an Artillery Observer, by 
F. de Wilde of Brigade B (formerly 12th Brigade). 



Contents xi 

CHAPTER XXVII 

PAGE 

Four Hours with the Boches . . .271 

From the Diary of Dr. van der Ghinst, of the Cabour 
(Adinkerque) Military Ambulance, and an account 
given by Leon Deliens, Private of the nth Line 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER XXVIII 
The Tervaete Charge . . . 283 

By Artillery Captain M C . 

CHAPTER XXIX 

A Reconnaissance 287 

From the Diary of Father Henusse, S. J., Chaplain of 
the 84th Battery. 

CHAPTER XXX 
The Irony of Fate 295 

By M. Sadsawska, Civic Guard, Motorcyclist of the 
1st Line Regiment. 

CHAPTER XXXI 

Observers ....... 299 

By Artillery Captain M C . 

CHAPTER XXXII 

A Patrol 3 12 

By Artillery Captain M C . 

CHAPTER XXXIII 

The Death March 3 J 9 

By Doctor Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers. 



xii Contents 

CHAPTER XXXIV 

PAGE 

Shelter D. A. , 327 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER XXXV 

Steenstraete ...... 337 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER XXXVI 

Lizerne 340 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER XXXVII 

Death of Sergeant Count Charles d'An- 

sembourg 344 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII 
A Guard on the Yser : — The Death Trench 350 

By Corporal J. Libois, of the 12th Line Regiment. 
CHAPTER XXXIX 

Nieuport in Ruins . . . . .361 

By Sub-Lieutenant L. Gilmont, Director of the Auto- 
mobile Park, Ocean Ambulance, La Panne. 

CHAPTER XL 
The St. Elisabeth Chapel . . . 368 

By Marcel Wyseur, Registrar to the Military Court. 
La Panne, August 26, 1915. 



Brave Belgians 



Brave Belgians 



CHAPTER I 
The Defence of Vise 

From the Account Given by Deputy Staff Major Collyns 
of the i2th llne regiment 1 

In order that the reader may have a connected idea with 
regard to the episodes related in the following chapters, the 
main lines of the preliminaries of the war must be remembered. 
On the 2nd of August, 19 14, at 7 p. m., Germany presented an 
ultimatum to Belgium. The Belgian Government replied at 
7 A. m. the following day that " it would resist, by all means 
within its power, any attempt to violate the rights of Belgium." 

On the morning of the 4th of August, the German extreme 
right, composed of 12 Regiments of Cavalry and of Battalions of 
Chasseurs, brought in motor-cars, crossed the frontier and 
endeavoured to seize the Vise" bridge. This attempt did not 
succeed. The enemy then extended its movement in a northerly 
direction, crossed the Meuse at the Lexhe ford and endeavoured 
to crush the resistance of the fortified place of Liege. On the 
5th of August, troops of the 3rd, 4th, and 7th Corps made an 
assault on that part of the defence front comprised between the 
Meuse and the Vesdre. Before the Barchon, Evegnee, and F16ron 
Forts, the assailants were driven back with sanguinary losses. 



x Now Lieutenant-Colonel, Commander of the 1st Line 
Regiment. 

1 



Brave Belgians 



Between the Barchon Fort and the Meuse, the 7th Corps broke 
through the lines, but it was counter-attacked by the nth 
Brigade with a bayonet charge, and thrown back in absolute 
disorder in the direction of the Dutch frontier. 

Fresh assaults began in the night between the 5th and 6th of 
August. Fresh troops belonging to the 8th, 9th, 10th, and nth 
Corps took part, and the attack extended over the whole ground 
between the Liers Fort and the Meuse, above Liege, that is on 
a front of about 22 miles. 

The Belgian troops had to face danger on every side at the 
same time and, after a most heroic defence, the 3rd Division fell 
back, exhausted. The Forts continued to resist and the last one 
fell on the 17th of August. 

During the night of August 1-2, 1914, Lieu- 
tenant-General Leman, Military Governor of the 
fortified position of Liege, entrusted to me the 
defence of the Vise and Argenteau bridges. It was 
an important mission, as German forces were massed 
at the frontier and were preparing to violate our 
neutrality. 

I hurried to the barracks, called up my Battalion 1 
of about four hundred men, and started for Vise\ 
where I arrived at seven in the morning. The whole 
day was taken up in organising the defence. A com- 
pany was placed at each of the bridges of Vise* and 
Argenteau, which are about two miles apart; a 
platoon of about thirty men were told off to guard 
the Lixhe ford, about six miles to the north ; outposts 
were sent to the right bank of the river, with instruc- 
tions to send out patrols and reconnaissances in the 
direction of the frontier. The rest of the Battalion 
remained in reserve at Haccourt. The soldiers were 

1 The Battalion, at that moment, consisted only of four contin- 
gents of militia, as the general mobilisation, decreed on July 31st, 
was not yet complete. 



The Defence of Vise 3 

enthusiastic and had perfect confidence. Most of 
them looked upon the war as a kind of pleasure party, 
which would relieve the monotony of their barrack 
life, and their good humour increased, thanks to the 
cordial welcome they received from the population. 

In the evening, Captain Chaudoir arrived with 
about sixty men. He was in command of the Mounted 
Chasseurs of the Liege Civic Guard. They were all 
brave fellows, courageous and ready for anything, 
but their equipment was very defective and they were 
even short of rifles. I accepted their services, never- 
theless, and entrusted them with the surveillance of 
the valleys of the Meuse and the Geer. 

The inhabitants of Vise also offered their help. 

"I am a good shot," said a lawyer, "and I want to 
do my share. Put me in the firing line." 

"No, I cannot have any civilians, " I replied, cate- 
gorically, and I sent them all away. 

On the following day, August 3rd, M. Delattre 
arrived. He is an engineer, a specialist in explosives, 
and he had been sent by the Staff to attend to the 
obstruction of the right bank of the river and the 
destruction of the bridges. Groups of workmen* 
under his orders, felled trees with which to bar the 
roads, placed mines in the piles and, in short, put 
everything in readiness for the blowing up of the 
bridges, if necessary. 

This fresh responsibility did not by any means 
lessen my anxiety. It was very difficult to realise 
what the situation really was. The most extraordi- 
nary rumours circulated and were believed, no matter 
how improbable they might seem. The Staff of the 
3rd Army Division announced to me, by telephone, 
that German troops had crossed the Netherlands 



4 Brave Belgians 

and were advancing through Limbourg. Thanks 
to the telephonic communication I had established 
with the gendarmerie stations, and with Lieutenant 
de Menten, who was on the watch with a platoon 
of the 2nd Lancers, near the Dutch frontier, I ob- 
tained exact information with regard to the enemy's 
movements, and was able to let the Commander 
of the Division know that the rumours were inex- 
act. They had been invented by Boche spies, 
and circulated by scaremongers. Towards evening, 
General Leman warned me that two divisions of the 
enemy's cavalry had invaded our territory. He 
ordered me to blow up the Vise* and Argent eau bridges. 
I transmitted the order to Delattre and, whilst he 
was making his final arrangements, I withdrew my 
outposts from the right bank of the river and, for 
fear of accidents, proceeded to evacuate the houses 
in the vicinity. When everything was quite ready, 
Delattre came to me.' 

"You can make your mind easy," he said, "we 
have taken the precaution to put a double charge, 
so that whatever " 

The sound of an explosion interrupted his speech 
and we both hurried away full of confidence. Our 
disappointment can easily be imagined, for great 
blocks of macarite had not exploded. The Vise* 
bridge was weakened, but it was still practicable for 
carriages. At Argent eau, I was told, the result was 
no better. 

"Bad work!" declared a Sergeant, who appeared to 
be as mortified as I was. Several civilians were 
jeering. I pitched into them and that soothed my 
nerves. 

We made use of the telephone at once and asked the 



The Defence of Vise 5 

Staff at Liege to send us fresh explosives immediately. 
The delay seemed to us interminable and we wondered 
whether we should be surprised by the enemy. 

The motor-cars arrived at last. We placed the 
powder, and by six o'clock all the necessary measures 
were taken. This time the explosion was formidable. 
Great blocks of stone, a cubic yard in diameter, were 
flung two hundred yards away. The middle of the 
bridge, about fifty yards in length, fell into the Meuse. 

A most unfortunate accident now happened. The 
shock produced by the explosion destroyed the tele- 
graphic and telephonic lines and interrupted all 
communications. I wondered what was to be done. 
Was my mission ended, as the bridges no longer 
existed? Ought I to return to our fortified position 
of Liege or stay and defend the passages of the river? 

None of the couriers I sent to General Leman came 
back. I was therefore obliged to decide for myself. 
I was there and I determined to stay there. At day- 
break, on the 4th, I endeavoured to complete the 
defence by utilising the houses overlooking the bridges, 
as from them it would be possible to fight the enemy 
on the opposite bank of the river. My information 
service left much to be desired. From time to time, 
my soldiers crossed the river, in two little boats which 
we had discovered by chance, and went in search of 
news. It was in this way that I learnt the fact that 
an important corps of the enemy's cavalry was at 
Berneau and that it was followed, at a short distance 
by a strong force of infantry. 

Suddenly, we heard a buzzing overhead and a 
Taube appeared in the sky. For a few minutes the 
sinister bird hovered over us, flinging down General 
von Emmich's proclamations. It then returned to 



6 Brave Belgians 

the enemy's lines, taking back very inexact informa- 
tion. In the first place, it could not see my troops 
hidden behind the houses, and it is very possible, 
thanks to its height, that it did not see that the 
bridge was destroyed, as the middle part was lying 
downwards in the Meuse. 

Warned by the aeroplane I modified my arrange- 
ments and collected all my forces at Vise, with the 
exception of one Company which I had left at Argen- 
teau. It was very fortunate that I acted in this way, 
as, at one o'clock, some Death's Head Hussars ap- 
peared in sight and, without any hesitation, made 
straight for the bridge. My soldiers watched them 
anxiously, their fingers on the triggers of their guns. 
"Wait," I said, "wait, let them come nearer." As 
soon as I saw them on the first part of the bridge, I 
yelled out "Fire!" "Piff! Pari! Piff! PafT!" . . . 
With the sudden crackling sound of the firing, the ter- 
rified horses reared, kicked, and struggled, and the 
horsemen rolled into the river; others, turning quickly 
around, rushed into the ranks that were following, col- 
lided with them and, in wild flight, escaped through 
the fields of clover and oats. All was helter-skelter! 
Just at this moment, heavy firing began from the 
houses on the right bank near the river. Unseen by 
us, some Germans had entered these buildings and 
were now protecting the retreat of their cavalry. 
From one bank to the other, the firing continued at 
intervals, but without much damage on either side. 
During a lull, I called out to my brave men: "Per- 
mission to grill one!" Ah, how joyfully they revelled 
in that cigarette! The baptism of fire had not pro- 
duced the least emotion. They were all smiling and 
joking with each other, and as soon as the enemy 



The Defence of Vise 7 

recommenced the firing, the combat continued as 
gaily as possible. 

Sheltered by a wall, their jerseys unbuttoned, the 
men of my reserve contingent were fortifying them- 
selves by devouring bread and butter. The idea 
suddenly occurred to me to try an experiment. ' ' Well, ' ' 
I said, "are you not proud to take part in the firing? 
As you see, we have stopped the Boches. It is not 
finished, though, and just now I shall want three of 
you, three of the bravest, who fear nothing. Who 
volunteers?" Before I had finished speaking, every 
one of them shouted: "I do, Major." 

The German artillery had now come into line. Two 
or three batteries on the slopes of Fouron, to the 
north-east of Vise, had opened fire. In spite of my 
men's courage, I felt it was necessary to stimulate 
them a little. They were only four hundred strong 
and, without artillery or machine-guns; they were 
fighting an enemy infinitely superior. I went to all 
the different shelters and affected the most hilarious 
gaiety. 

"We are going to have fine fun," I said to them. 
"The Boches have never yet managed to fire straight 
with their cannons, and their projectiles will fall every- 
where except in the houses we are occupying." This 
succeeded very well and the men greeted the German 
shrapnels, which were bursting at tremendous heights, 
with laughter. My joy was great, for if the artillery 
had fired straight into the houses, our position 
would have been impossible and we should have been 
obliged to retreat. Ah, if we had only had a few 
guns, how many of our adversaries we should 
have brought down ! 

During the combat, some of the horsemen of the 



8 Brave Belgians 

Civic Guard told me that a huge infantry column 
had crossed the Meuse, north of Vise and that a 
battery was already directing its firing on us. This 
news seemed all the more probable, as we heard a 
cannonading which appeared to be coming from a 
height on the left bank. Isolated as we were, and not 
having received any instructions, my situation was 
extremely disquieting. In order to protect my retreat, 
I gave orders to the 2nd Company to prevent, by its 
firing, any movement of the enemy southwards. To 
the ist Company, I gave orders to go towards Hallem- 
baye and strengthen the outpost at Lixfte and, at 
the same time, to observe how the land lay towards 
the north. 

Presently the 2nd Company had to undergo such 
violent firing from musketry and machine-guns that 
Captain Francois, who was in command, was obliged 
to evacuate certain houses along the Meuse, as the 
walls were pierced by the balls. Captain Burgh- 
raeve, too, in command of the ist Company, sent 
me word that the German artillery was sending a 
veritable storm of shells of every calibre on to the 
troops that were defending the Lixhe ford, and that the 
men, lying down under each fresh burst, were unable 
to reply, and still more unable to observe the country 
round. It was, therefore, possible for the Germans 
to cross the Meuse without being seen by them so 
that he could not warn me. "Hold out," I replied, 
"it is all right!" At the same time, I continued 
encouraging my brave men who were resisting ener- 
getically at Vise\ 

By 4.30, the development of the enemy's front was 
getting more and more extensive. The weakness of 
my forces, part of which could do nothing on account 



The Defence of Vise 9 

of the adverse firing, made me decide to evacuate my 
position, under cover, at the different points occupied, 
of our rear-guard. This retreat took place in perfect 
order, without the enemy being aware of it. The 
1st Company, in spite of its dangerous situation, 
also succeeded in withdrawing, group by group. 
The Lixhe post was now the only one to cause us 
any anxiety. 

Crouching down in the beet-root fields, our com- 
rades awaited a lull in the steel whirlwind, in order 
to get up and make a rush forward. Fifty yards 
farther on, they threw themselves down again. The 
German artillery increased its firing, the earth shook, 
and clouds of dust flew about everywhere. With 
intense emotion, I watched this terrible race. Finally, 
thank God, they were all there with us. The soldiers 
had their coats, shakos, and kits pierced with balls. 
Two men saw the bicycles they were holding shattered 
by shells. By the most unheard-of good luck, not 
one of them was wounded. 

Our total losses amounted to two men killed and ten 
wounded. The inhabitants of Vise* told us afterward 
that the enemy had suffered greatly, and that a 
number of carts took away their wounded. 



CHAPTER n 
The First German Flag Taken 

(August 5, 19 14) 

From the Account Given by Deputy Staff Major 
collyns of the i2th llne regiment 

On leaving Vise, I went to Milmort, where, on August 
5th, I received an order from General Leman to go 
immediately to Wandre and to prevent, at any cost, 
the Germans crossing the bridge over the Meuse. 

On arriving, I made a brief survey of the position. 
As my Battalion was only four hundred strong, the 
defence meant principally the construction of bar- 
ricades and the utilising of houses and walls for firing 
obliquely and from all sides over the bridge of the 
Meuse, over the canal bridge to the west, and over 
the roads leading to these bridges. With feverish 
activity, the soldiers set to work. In the various 
houses indicated, they broke the window-panes, 
arranged the bedding and sacks of earth against the 
windows, in order to shelter those who were firing. 
They then dragged carts, carried planks of wood and 
barrels, and all kinds of other material, to the bridge 
over the Meuse, piling everything up in such a way 
as to leave only a narrow passage, scarcely sufficient 
for one man to cross at a time. 

10 



The First German Flag Taken n 

A barricade was then put up on the road from Her- 
stal to Vivegnis. The walls of the cemetery, a huge 
rectangle between the road and the canal, were pierced 
to form loopholes and so transformed into a regular 
redoubt. In a very short time, my men were posted 
behind the windows of the houses and the loopholes 
of the cemetery, with their Mausers ready, on the 
look-out for the enemy. 

These preparations evidently interfered with the 
plans of the Germans and their spies set to work to 
move us away. One of their agents transmitted to 
me, by telephone, an order from the Staff to leave 
Wandre. As I had received an order to defend the 
bridge at any cost, I was greatly surprised and asked 
at once for communication with Headquarters. 

"I have given no such instructions," answered 
General Leman, in reply to my question. "Is Col- 
lyns still there and can I count on him?" I assured 
the General that I should on no account leave there 
without his express order to do so. 

On returning to the bridge, to my great amazement, 
I saw some men taking away the carts which formed 
our barricade. I called out to them furiously and 
asked what they were doing. They informed me 
that they were merely obeying an order they had 
received from the Superintendent of Police. I asked 
the latter what he meant by interfering. 

"There is no knowing what to do," he answered, 
angrily. "The General has just telephoned to me 
to have the bridge cleared." 

"Look here," I replied, "I am going to give an 
order now to the sentinels to shoot down every man 
who touches the barricades, and I shall hold you 
responsible for what happens." 



12 Brave Belgians 

My energetic attitude took effect and there was 
no further attempt to disobey my orders. 

The remainder of the day, August 5th, passed with- 
out any other incident. Fearing a night attack, I 
arranged for a new system of lighting. I had some 
piles of straw soaked in tar and placed at various 
points, out of sight of the enemy, giving orders to 
the sentinels to set fire to them in case of an alert. 

No information reached me except that the enemy 
was bombarding the Forts violently. As a matter of 
fact, my position at the Wandre bridge constituted 
a second line of defence, for, at a certain distance in 
front of us, fortress troops occupied the ground be- 
tween the Pontisse Fort and the Meuse. I had not 
much faith in the value of these soldiers, as they 
belonged to our former recruiting system. 

They had left their regiments years ago and had only 
been under arms again four days. My estimation 
turned out to be true. At midnight, a sustained firing 
was suddenly heard in front of us and, very soon after, 
the fortress troops endeavoured to reach the town by 
the roads I was defending. I rushed forward to 
meet them and ordered them to return to their posi- 
tion, threatening to shoot those who disobeyed. 
They started back, but the darkness prevented my 
seeing whether they really returned to their posts, 
or whether they slipped round on our left flank. 

Towards one o'clock, my sentinels fired and, imme- 
diately, the bonfires were lighted. An intense firing 
then took place, principally from the Herstal-Vivegnis 
road. The German musketry and machine-guns 
replied. A few minutes later, the firing was less 
intense and was heard farther away. The enemy had 
been obliged to retreat, but, before long returned in 



The First German Flag Taken 13 

greater force, by parallel streets. Once more our 
firing compelled them to retreat. They then rushed 
into the gardens, passed through the houses and ad- 
vanced along the street which cuts the Herstal- 
Vivegnis road perpendicularly. This street was 
simply swept from one end to the other by our sol- 
diers, hidden in the houses skirting the right of the 
square. After suffering frightful losses, the Germans 
were obliged to escape and take shelter in the gar- 
dens. Fresh troops appeared and attempted to force 
the passage. The attacks continued uninterruptedly. 
Mingled with the sound of the orders, of the shouts 
and cries of "Forward!" could be heard the firing of 
the guns and the dull thud of bodies falling to the 
ground. Whole groups of German foot-soldiers were 
lying in the streets, at equal distances, their hands 
clenching the butt end of their guns, guarding their 
ranks. even in death. They lay there, showing their 
breasts, torn open by the balls, and their hideous 
wounds. Blood trickled over the footpaths and over 
the roads, there was blood on the fronts of the houses, 
blood everywhere. Huge flames from the bonfires 
lighted up this scene of carnage. The flames danced, 
jumped, mingled with each other in golden wreaths, 
throwing long shadows which seemed to be climbing 
and running along the walls. . . . 

Gradually, the adversaries' vigour weakened, their 
efforts diminished, and there were long intervals 
between the attacks. As soon as the heads of the 
assaulting columns came within reach of our firing, 
they were mown down. The rest disbanded and, 
rushing in all directions, hid in the gardens and cellars. 
During a lull, a few of my brave men explored the 
surrounding district and, a few minutes later, the 



14 Brave Belgians 

soldier Lange brought me the flag of the 89th Regiment 
of Mecklenburg Grenadiers, which he had found just 
below the houses facing the Vivegnis road. The 
Colonel, the Adjutant-Major, the standard bearer, 
and a number of officers were lying there near their 
glorious trophy. I seized the flag and went forward 
to my soldiers crying: "Victory! Victory!" There 
was wild enthusiasm and, spontaneously, they burst 
out with our national anthem: the Brabangonne, 
and shouts of "Long live the King! Long live Bel- 
gium! Long live the Major!" The officers hurried 
to me to congratulate me and, I may as well confess 
it, in a state of excitement that made my soldiers 
forget all hierarchy, they rushed to me and grasped 
my hand. Ah, the brave fellows! 

The firing became less and less violent and, towards 
eight in the morning, the enemy beat a final retreat. 
A strange man-hunting chase then began in the little 
gardens of the houses. There were Boches hidden 
in the bushes, crouching down behind heaps of leaves. 
Some of them held up their hands, crying, "Com- 
rades, do not shoot!" Others, on the contrary, 
fought to the last. In one garden, a dozen of them 
refused stubbornly to surrender, and were massacred. 
After confiding the flag to Engineer Hiard, who un- 
dertook to take it to General Leman, I went through 
the streets of the town. Stretcher-bearers were car- 
rying away the Germans or dressing their wounds. 
Near the square, I witnessed a very painful scene. 
As one of the stretcher-bearers approached, a German 
officer raised his pistol. Our man snatched it from 
him, but, whilst he was calling one of his colleagues 
to help him, the Boche drew out his pocketknife and 
cut his own throat. There were helmets, swords, guns, 



The First German Flag Taken 15 

and fragments of all kinds of things strewing the 
ground and I could not resist the temptation of send- 
ing a little collection to the Lie'ge Town Hall. 

Just at that moment, I heard some alarming news. 
I was told that there had been an attempt to assas- 
sinate General Leman; that the Germans had entered 
Li£ge, that they already occupied Herstal, and that 
they threatened to bar our way. In spite of our 
success, our situation was extremely perilous. What- 
ever might happen, I had given my solemn promise 
to General Leman that I would hold the bridge and 
I was determined to keep my word. I sent word to 
the Governor telling him what my position was. I 
told him that the Germans had retreated and were 
probably within a certain distance of my lines, that 
I saw the possibility of going forward and throwing 
them back under the firing of the Pontisse Fort, but 
that I could not undertake this attack, unless I could 
be sure that the heights of Wandre, situated on the 
right bank, were in the possession of our troops, as 
otherwise I should be exposed to the enemy crossing 
the bridge and getting at us from the other side. I 
sent three cyclists, one after the other, to Headquar- 
ters but, to my great disappointment, I received no 
answer and so did not dare leave our shelter. 

Towards ten o'clock, Captain Grossman arrived. 
He was formerly an officer of my Battalion and now, 
since the mobilisation, he was in the 2nd Battalion of 
the 32nd Line Regiment. 

"Major," he said, "I was in position on the right 
bank of the Meuse and I have received orders to 
fall back. I heard that you were on the other bank 
and I have come to place myself at your disposal. 
Do not pack me off again, Major. Make use of 



16 Brave Belgians 

my hundred and fifty men." This help was a 
godsend. 

"Grossman," I answered, "this is just like you. 
I am very thankful you have come. We succeeded 
at Vise* and we have taken a flag here and a number 
of prisoners. I will give you an opportunity of doing 
something worth doing. The situation is as follows: 
The enemy is retreating in front of us, but my left 
is threatened and we are threatened from behind. 
I also know that a fairly important German force is 
in Rhees cemetery, and may be able to turn round 
us. Go by Basprial towards the heights, clear the 
ground of what you find there, hold the troops which 
now occupy Rhees, at all costs, and endeavour to 
make an impression on them. I fancy you will do 
a good stroke there, Grossman." 

The Commander started off at once with his Com- 
pany and, towards one in the afternoon, he crossed 
the bridge again, followed by four hundred prisoners, 
among whom were seven officers, Lieutenant Count 
von Moltke included, the grand-nephew of the famous 
Marshal. 

"I congratulate you heartily, Grossman," I said, 
"and, by way of reward, you shall take the prisoners 
to Liege." 

A few minutes later, I received notice that General 
Bertrand was coming with his brigade to the left 
bank, that I was to cover his passage by the Wandre 
bridge and form, afterwards, the rear- guard of his 
troops, which were retiring in the direction of Ans. . . . 



CHAPTER III 

The Attack on the Offices of the 3rd 
Division 

(Liege, August 6, 19 1 4) 

From Accounts by General Major Stassin, Commanders 

Vincotte and Buisset, Captains Lhermite and 

Renard, Adjutant Burlet and Private 

poncelet 

The aspect of St.-Foi Street on August 5, 1914, 
will never be forgotten by those who were there on 
that date. Officers and soldiers, covered with dust, 
came hurrying along from the Quays and from St. 
Leonard Street and Defrecheux Street, towards the 
offices of the Military Headquarters of the fortified 
position. With feverish haste, they hurried along 
through the crowds of young men in the street, who, 
with their tri-coloured cockade in their buttonholes, 
were shouting and singing in their enthusiasm, for 
they had all come to offer their life for their country. 
Everyone was in high spirits, as the greatest confidence 
and certainty of victory reigned supreme. The 
various groups were chatting and joking with each 
other, and the arrival and departure of the military 
couriers were greeted with amusing sallies. "Bring 
me back a helmet!" called out one man. "I would 
2 17 



1 8 Brave Belgians 

rather have a lance to make a hat-pin with for my 
wife ! ' ' cried another. Bursts of laughter greeted every 
speech. Young men, rich and poor, were all there 
together, fraternising with each other, all actuated 
by a fine burst of patriotic enthusiasm. Here and 
there, forming a contrast to this careless gaiety, were 
the farmers and cattle-dealers, in their smocks, with 
their iron-tipped sticks. They all looked more or less 
anxious and were discussing gruffly the requisition 
prices. 

"Make way there!" called out a voice authorita- 
tively. 

A gendarme suddenly appeared, carrying a pigeon 
crouching in a woman's hat. He was followed by 
a wretched-looking woman in tears, with dishevelled 
hair, and by a shifty-looking individual. Both of 
them had a shrinking attitude as they were hustled 
along. The man kept repeating in a mechanical 
way: "Let us go! Let us go!" 

"Down with all spies!" yelled the crowd and fists 
threatened the two Boches, as they disappeared under 
the archway. Several carts, under the care of a sub- 
officer, followed. They were full of weapons and 
war equipment of various kinds. The news soon 
spread that fifteen thousand guns had just been dis- 
covered in a cellar in St. Marguerite Street and 
more than fifty thousand lances, saddles, revolvers, 
and machine-guns in a house in Jonckeu Street, which, 
from cellar to attic, had been converted into a veritable 
arsenal. A thrill of anger ran through the whole 
crowd. 

Inside the house which was the Headquarters of 
the Staff, feverish activity reigned. Night and day, 
without ceasing and without any rest, the officers had 



Attack on Offices of 3rd Division 19 

been at work, for, we may as well confess it, we had 
had too much faith in the loyalty of our neighbours, 
and the ultimatum had taken us by surprise. Every- 
thing had to be thought of and everything organised 
within a few days. Motor-cars, horses, cattle, and 
fodder had to be requisitioned. Houses in the firing 
line would have to be destroyed, trenches and shelters 
must be constructed. There were, in fact, thousands 
of things to be done, in order to complete and improve 
the defence of the Forts. 

The telephone bell kept ringing and couriers rushed 
off every minute along the various routes, carrying 
orders from the Governor to the various points 
threatened. 

Towards midnight, St.-Foi Street was silent again. 
At the Military Headquarters, the officers continued 
their work and, at the door of the building, a bureau 
carriage and several motor-cars were stationed. 

Suddenly, shouts and cries of "Hurrah!" were to 
be heard. Surrounded by a crowd, wild with delight, 
an open motor-car appeared. 

Standing on the cushions, Engineer Hiard was to 
be seen waving a German flag. It was the flag of the 
89th Regiment of the Mecklenburg Grenadiers, which 
a soldier, Fernand Lange, had just taken at the 
Wandre bridge, at Herstal. Windows opened, and 
faces, with eyes puffed up with sleep, appeared. 
Bare arms were to be seen waving handkerchiefs, 
and the enthusiasm was beyond all words. 

Gradually the tumult ceased once more and there 
was silence again. Day broke and a dim light illu- 
mined the street. Suddenly a motor-car appeared 
through the morning mist, and two lancers, who 
were seated in it, cried out, "The English are here!" 



20 Brave Belgians 

Behind them were five German officers, preceding 
soldiers in grey uniform marching in two ranks and 
shouldering guns. 1 

A crowd of men and women of the people accom- 
panied them, shouting joyfully: "Long live the 
English!" Commander Marchand was standing in 
the doorway of the Headquarters building, smoking 
a cigarette. He looked at the procession in amaze- 
ment, wondering whether the men were truce-bearers 
or deserters. He advanced a few steps to meet them 
in a hesitating way. 

Inside the building, the officers were still at work, 
taking no notice of the noise in the street. By chance, 
Commander Delannoy went to the window. His 
office is on the second floor and looks on to St. 
Leonard Street. He saw about thirty Germans 
in this street. He rushed back to the landing shout- 
ing : ' ' The Germans are here ! ' ' Commander Vincotte, 
who was on the first floor, loaded his revolver and 
rushed down the stairs. Commander Buisset and 
Lieutenant Renard followed him. 

In the meantime, the five German officers walked 
slowly up to Commander Marchand and, putting 
their hands behind their backs, armed themselves 
with a revolver in the right hand and a dagger in the 
left. When within two yards of the Commander, 
their chief officer, a tall, stout man, whom we learnt 
afterwards was Major Count Joachim von Alvensle- 
ben, spoke to the Belgian officer in English. No one 
knows what he said. Marchand suddenly shouted: 
"You shall never pass!" All the German officers, 
feigning no longer, fired immediately. Marchand 

1 Some of these soldiers belonged to the 7th Regiment of 
Chasseurs. 



Attack on Offices of 3rd Division 21 

and Vincotte fired back. Three German officers 
fell. Alvensleben rushed to the door to enter the 
house, but Vincotte forthwith fired four shots at 
him, and the Major fell forward head first. The 
last German officer fell at his side, brought down by 
Captain Lhermite with the butt end of his gun. Fol- 
lowing the example of their chiefs, the enemy soldiers 
opened fire, holding the butt end of their guns on their 
hips. They aimed badly and the shots grazed the 
walls. Commander Sauber sprang out of the car- 
riage standing at the door, and discharged his Brown- 
ing on the assailants. A German slipped behind 
the motor-cars and aimed at Sauber from the foot- 
path. He missed the Commander, but hit Marchand, 
who fell down, wounded at the back of the neck and 
in the chest. 

At this moment, about twenty Germans turned the 
corner of the street and rushed to the rescue of their 
countrymen. Hidden behind a barrier, they fired 
into the windows and entrance hall. Colonel Stassin, 
Chief of the Staff, was working with General Leman 
in a back room of the ground floor. At the sound 
of the shooting, he rushed along the hall and, in spite 
of a shower of bullets, out into the street. A terrible 
sight awaited him there. Commander Marchand 
was lying in a pool of blood, and four Belgian officers 
were fighting courageously with about thirty Germans. 
The Colonel did not hesitate a moment. Before all 
things, the Governor must be saved. He returned to 
the office and took the General to the Royal foundry 
which adjoins the buildings. Helped by Captain 
de Krahe and Captain Lebbe, the two chiefs scaled 
the wall, between the houses, and, by taking St. 
Leonard Street, reached the Vivegnis station. From 



22 Brave Belgians 

there, they went by carriage to the Loncin Fort, 
where the Governor remained. 

In the meantime, Commander Vincotte, in order 
to cover the General's retreat, called together the 
soldiers and the gendarmes of the Guard and led them 
to the attack, seconded by Captain Buisset, Captain 
Lhermite, and Lieutenant Renard. With a gun 
which he found in the street, Commander Hauteclerc 
joined in the attack. The Belgians were ten against 
thirty, but, in spite of this, they sustained the fight 
with advantage to themselves. On their knees on 
the ground, crouching down on the footpath, or 
sheltered behind doors, they avoided the enemy's 
balls, whilst their well-aimed firing brought down 
many victims. When about ten were killed, the 
others, most of whom were wounded, took flight. 
One alone, the last of them all, posted opposite the 
Headquarters, continued firing at the windows. 
Adjutant Burlet, from the balcony above, brought 
him down. Undecided which way to escape, the 
Germans stopped at the corner of St. Leonard Street. 
A few of them waved the white flag. 

"Forward!" cried Vincotte, at the head of his cour- 
ageous little troop, rushing off in pursuit of them. In 
St. Leonard Street, two more Germans were killed. 
Unfortunately the Belgians only had their revolvers 
and, thanks to this, the remaining Boches escaped. 

After placing men to guard each end of the street, 
the officers returned to Headquarters and carried the 
body of Commander Marchand into a room on the 
ground floor. The unfortunate officer gave no sign 
of life. He had a frightful wound at the back of his 
neck and a great clot of blood at his chest. A second 
victim, a gendarme, named Houba, was placed at his 



Attack on Offices of 3rd Division 23 

side. In an adjoining room the wounds of two sol- 
diers were quickly dressed. The bodies of the enemy 
were then searched. In Major von Alvensleben's 
pocket, a 1/60,000 map of Liege was found, on which 
an itinerary was traced in pencil from Hermee to 
Coron-Meuse. Had the Germans really followed 
that itinerary and had they managed to come unseen 
across the waste land of the Vignes and so enter the 
town? It is possible, but it is quite certain that their 
departure was as mysterious as their arrival, as they 
were neither seen to enter nor leave the town at any 
point of the fortified region. It is much more prob- 
able that they were hidden inside the town when they 
prepared this expedition. The following rumoured 
version of the affair is much the more probable expla- 
nation. A few days before the declaration of war, 
it is said that some Danes took a flat at Thier, Liege. 
On the evening of August 5th, they paid their bill to 
their landlady, an honest, unsuspecting woman, 
telling her that the town did not seem safe and that 
they intended leaving the following night. Towards 
three in the morning, she heard a noise and, getting 
up, went to see them off. To her amazement, she 
saw that they were wearing German uniforms. With- 
out attempting any explanation, the Boches made off. 
Were these men Alvensleben and his friends? 

Whatever were the means employed, the attempt 
on the offices of the 3rd Division was a most daring 
exploit, and if it had not been for the heroic resistance 
of the Staff officers and of the soldiers on guard, the 
Germans would certainly have succeeded in capturing 
the Governor of the stronghold and in getting hold 
of the documents concerning the defence. 



CHAPTER IV 
The Sart-Tilman Combat 

From an Account Given by Pere de Groote, Army Chaplain 
to the ist Regiment of Unmounted Chasseurs and 

completed by major n of the 4th 

Regiment of Unmounted Chasseurs 

On August 4, 1914, the inhabitants of Charleroi 
crowded to the streets, windows, and balconies to 
cheer the ist Regiment of Chasseurs which was start- 
ing, preceded by the band, to take part in the defence 
of Belgium. 

"Long live the King! Hurrah for Belgium! 
Hurrah for the soldiers!" 

Every man shouted the words that came first to his 
lips, and the soldiers, with bright eyes and smiles, 
marched proudly along, under a shower of flowers and 
tricolour ribbons. 

Pushing through the ranks, a woman held a little 
girl of three or four years of age up to one of the volun- 
teers, and the father, with tears in his eyes, kissed his 
child for the last time, amidst the frantic cheering 
of the crowd. 

Just at this moment, the people rushed forward on 
to the horse-road, surrounding the soldiers, and com- 
menced filling their pockets with tobacco, chocolate, 
and a hundred other dainties. The officers, half- 

24 



The Sart-Tilman Combat 25 

laughing and half angry, endeavoured to re-establish 
order. As for me, I had great difficulty to get along, 
for people I did not know at all clutched me, grasped 
my hands and, recommending their sons to my care, 
forced money upon me with the words, "Take it, 
take it, it is for the soldiers." I managed to get free 
of the mob and rushed home. To my great annoy- 
ance, my appointment as army chaplain had not yet 
arrived. What was I to do? The soldiers wanted 
me to be with them and it seemed to me that, at 
such a time, I could not desert them. I did not 
hesitate long, but rushed off to the station and took 
my seat in a compartment with eight officers. 

After two hours' journey, the train stopped and we 
were at Huy. After organising the bridge-head and 
protecting the destruction of the Engis and Hermalle 
bridges, the regiment was sent by train to Liege in 
the afternoon of August 5th. We arrived at the 
Longdoz station and were greeted here, too, with 
cheers. The enthusiasm increased when the crowd 
discovered a priest in the ranks. We were stationed 
on the road which leads from Jupille to Bellaire, as 
reserves, behind the nth Brigade, which was then 
righting furiously in the vicinity of the Barchon Fort. 
The soldiers piled arms and lay down on the roadside. 
Presently a line regiment passed. From horseback, 
I addressed a few patriotic words to the brave fel- 
lows, who seemed to appreciate what I said. They 
knelt down and asked for my blessing. I prayed that 
God would give them the victory. 

Towards evening, we returned to Li£ge, went 
through to Fragnee and halted in a meadow. It was 
then ten o'clock. I lay down on the grass by Com- 
mander Henseval. I had not closed my eyes for 



26 Brave Belgians 

three nights and was dead tired. The Commander, 
who was preparing his stylograph, in order to write to 
his wife, noticed my exhaustion. ' ' Go to sleep, ' ' he said ; 
"in case anything happens, I will wake you." I did 
not need telling twice, but alas, ten minutes later, 
there was an energetic call: "To arms! To arms!" 

I sprang to my feet and rushed forward to find out 
what had occurred. The German Staff, having failed 
in its plans to the east, was employing one of its favour- 
ite manoeuvres and developing action by means of 
its left wing, in the direction of a more vulnerable 
sector, that of Embourg-Boncelles. From our posi- 
tion at Fragnee, we could already see the light of the 
bursting shells, here and there, in the direction of 
Boncelles. 

We were sent with the 4th Chasseurs to Ougr^e. 
I was at the head of the column, behind General 
Massart. It was raining in torrents and the water 
was streaming down our faces. This mattered little 
to us and we continued our march along the white 
road bordered by two rows of trees. 

Suddenly, a motor-car arrived, travelling at full 
speed. Commander Marchand was in it. He belonged 
to Lieutenant-General Leman's Staff. 

"Our men are out-flanked at Sart-Tilman," he said 
to the General; "the Chasseurs must defend the 
hamlet at any cost." 

1 ' You mean a sacrifice ? " 

"Yes, General." 

1 ' Good, agreed ! Forward ! ' ' 

The commander of the regiment, Colonel Jacquet, 
went quickly from rank to rank of the soldiers, stimu- 
lating their enthusiasm and telling them how proud 
he was to be marching at their head. As he wished 



The Sart-Tilman Combat 27 

to add example to precept, he went straight to the 
vanguard and advanced cautiously along, for the 
ground was hilly and it was quite possible that 
enemy patrols might have penetrated there. Sart- 
Tilman is the key of a wooded table-land, the entrance 
to which was crowned by a series of redoubts and 
hastily prepared trenches, but the firing range was 
not sufficiently cleared. It was nearly midnight when 
we passed through the hamlet. 

The Major of the 1st Battalion placed three com- 
panies between the redoubts, facing the St. Jean and 
Sclessin woods and kept one company back as a 
reserve. The noise from this side was deafening. 
Everything seemed to be rumbling together, guns, 
machine-guns, and cannons, and, in the midst of the 
darkness, the bursting of the shrapnels illuminated 
the sky with their blood-red lights. To the right and 
left, the Boncelles and Embourg Forts seemed to be 
wrapped round with a girdle of flames. From time 
to time, we could hear, in the still night, the doleful 
sound of the fifes sounding the rally and the march 
forward. It was a grand and thrilling sight. It was 
war in all its tragic beauty. The deployment of the 
Chasseurs was carried out just as though it had been 
on the drilling ground. They climbed the slopes in 
files. Here and there, lay the dead body of a Belgian 
soldier. 

"Halt!" came the order and, when once they were 
established in an advantageous position and sheltered 
as much as possible, they fired by guess and for a 
good reason. It was impossible to see a single one 
of the enemy soldiers. They were all hidden in the 
trenches and their heads scarcely came up to the 
parapet. 



28 Brave Belgians 

Suddenly, some soldiers, dragging with them 
their machine-guns, rushed away, crying, "The Ger- 
mans are there. Each man for himself!" It was 
impossible to stop them and there was a veritable 
helter-skelter. We discovered afterwards that these 
men were Germans, disguised as Belgian soldiers, in 
order to create a panic amongst us. There was a slight 
hesitation and then our officers rushed amongst the 
sharp-shooters and led them forward, to the positions 
they were to occupy. A violent musketry fire greeted 
them, coming chiefly from the St. Jean wood, a part 
of which had not been felled. Scattered about, our 
Chasseurs continued to advance, sheltering behind 
one tree after another, in spite of the ceaseless firing. 
The balls whizzed along and, with a dry crackle, cut 
down the branches or entered the trunks of the trees. 
I can still see a young Corporal, who had been hit in 
the head and chest with a ball and was red with blood, 
walking towards Major Le Doseray. 

"I have done my duty, Major," he said, "haven't 
I? Are you satisfied with me?" The Major 
had only just time to grasp his hand, when the poor 
fellow sank down. I rushed to him, but he was 
dead. 

The battle developed with great violence. The 
German scouts, who preceded their columns, were 
driven off ; but our company to the right, under Cap- 
tain Commander Rochette, had suffered terrible losses 
and he asked for reinforcements. The reserve of the 
ist Battalion and two companies of the 2nd Battalion 
soon formed part of the chain, and the struggle con- 
tinued until break of day with alternative calm and 
violence. The Germans found a way of creeping 
into our thickets, thus obliging our regiment reserve 



The Sart-Tilman Combat 29 

patrols to explore our positions on each side and even 
at our back. 

The Chasseurs were congratulating themselves on 
having accomplished their mission and they believed 
that the victory was theirs, when, just at dawn, on 
our left wing, the Boches waved white flags and the 
bugle rang out, "1st Chasseurs, cease firing!" Our 
officers were amazed and, for an instant, our firing 
stopped. We understood immediately, though, that 
it was only another ruse and that the Germans had 
imitated our bugle call. The fight began once more, 
and very soon after, groups of the enemy who, during 
the darkness had crept into some of the Sart-Tilman 
houses that were still intact, took our trenches and 
our explorers from behind. There was a moment's 
consternation, as one of our men fell face downwards 
at the Colonel's feet, declaring that he had been 
shot in the back by his comrades. By way of restor- 
ing confidence, the Commander of the 2nd Battalion 
sent a platoon to reconnoitre in the direction of the 
Cense-Rouge farm. It came back without discover- 
ing anything, after losing some men who were also 
shot in the back. Another platoon inspected the 
field of oats adjoining the farm. Our Adjutant- 
Major went himself into the gardens. In the houses, 
there were soldiers dressed remarkably like our Chas- 
seurs. The Colonel told them to come out and join 
in the shooting. They refused and we broke down the 
doors, but the point blank firing of these imitation 
Chasseurs obliged our men to fall back. Captain 
Fleuracker, Captain Rochette, Lieutenant Sohier, 
Lieutenant Pereaux, and Lieutenant Dufrane were 
killed. Our reserve had to be withdrawn and the 
houses had to be attacked one after another. We 



30 Brave Belgians 

were not supplied with incendiary and asphyxiating 
means, as the Germans were. 

The battle continued to rage and some German 
machine-guns, stationed four hundred yards north- 
east of Sart-Tilman and protected by barbed wire, 
fired volleys into the hamlet and its neighbourhood. 
Captain Vergeynst, followed by a few courageous 
men, rushed forward and succeeded in bringing down 
the Boche commander and his gunners, but, unfor- 
tunately, the losses in our ranks were considerable. 
The regimentary reserve, which for a time had been 
dispersed, now rallied round the officers, whilst the 
first line executed a furious counter-attack. This 
continued until towards five o'clock, when the 3rd 
Battalion, with the flag, the machine-guns, and the 
artillery of the 15th Brigade came from the St. Lau- 
rent wood and began to attack the trenches we had 
had to leave. These were soon retaken. 

Just at this moment Captain Henseval, command- 
ing the 3rd Company of the 3rd Battalion, noticed a 
white flag in the midst of a group of Germans who, 
with hands up, were crying, "Kamarades! Kama- 
rades ! " A sign was made for them to approach, but, 
as they did not move, Henseval, accompanied by 
about ten men, advanced towards them in order to 
take them. He had almost reached them, when the 
Germans flung themselves down on the ground, 
discovering a machine-gun which mowed down the 
little group of Belgians, including the Captain, who 
received several balls in his chest. Of all this brave 
group, only one man escaped. 

To the left, in the direction of Boncelles, grey masses 
could be seen treading down the beet-root fields. 
They were the 73rd and 74th regiments of German 



The Sart-Tilman Combat 31 

Infantry, marching in close ranks, shouting "Hurrah !" 
and attacking the Fort. Our shells and machine-guns 
made great gaps in their columns. At the command 
of their officers, the Battalions closed up the gaps 
and continued their march forward. Three times 
their lines were broken and three times they re-formed 
them. Finally, decimated, they broke up near the 
moats. Only a hundred men remained on foot. 
Without their officers, and completely demoralised, 
they waved a white flag. Captain Lefert, in command 
of the Fort, and Lieutenant Montoisy, climbed on to 
the benches and, when the Germans saw them, they 
held up their hands. Just at that moment, two shots 
were fired from somewhere and the Captain fell, a 
ball in both thighs. The Germans gave themselves 
up all the same, and disappeared in Indian file inside 
the Fort. The assault had failed and the enemy fell 
back towards seven o'clock and attempted nothing 
more than a few counter-attacks at intervals. 

The Chasseurs were masters of the place and their 
flag flew over Sart-Tilman. 

I went out at once to the battle-field. What an 
abominable sight it was ! Around the trenches, were 
the dead bodies of Belgians and Germans, piled up 
and forming parapets three yards high. I went down 
into one of the trenches ; it was a pool of blood, with 
a heap of bodies entangled with each other. Alas, 
how many of our brave young Chasseurs were there, 
poor fellows whom anxious mothers were expecting 
back home! Stepping over the dead bodies, I dressed 
the wounds of our men and said a few words to en- 
courage them. They were resigned and bore their 
suffering without any complaint, but what anguish 
I read in the eyes that were already becoming dim! 



32 Brave Belgians 

How fervently they clasped their hands together in a 
last prayer! 

When I spoke a few words in their own language to 
the German wounded, what a deafening noise began! 
They cried, moaned, pitied themselves and, imagining 
that I was one of their countrymen, gave me farewell 
messages for their relatives, their wives, and their 
children. They clung to me, kissed my hands, be- 
seeched me not to leave them. I hurried away from 
this hell and made my way up and down the battle- 
field, in search of wounded men to relieve and dying 
ones to whom to administer the last sacraments. 
There in front of me, lay more than five thousand 
soldiers of the Brandenburg, Hanover, and Pomera- 
nian Corps. The ground was covered with a grey 
cloak, relieved here and there by the dark patches of 
our Chasseurs' uniforms. From this field of suffering, 
could be heard groans, sobs, and the death-rattle. 
It was horrible, frightful! Lying on his back, with 
a fearful wound, a poor young volunteer of some 
seventeen years old, was calling out, piteously, 
"Mother, mother, I want to see you!" I knelt down 
beside him and the poor boy held out a silver coin of 
fifty centimes to me. "It is all I have," he said; 
" I want to send it to the church where I was baptised." 

I was moving on, when a Commander suddenly 
forbade me to go forward. "As long as there are 
any wounded, I have a mission to fulfil," I protested. 
He finally yielded and gave me two soldiers for pro- 
tection. This precaution was wise, as, a minute 
later, a German officer, who appeared to be dead, 
fired two shots from his revolver at me, but for- 
tunately he failed to hit his mark. After this I was ex- 
tremely cautious in approaching any officers of the 



The Sart-Tilman Combat 33 

enemy. However serious their wounds might be, 
they always clutched their swords in disdainful silence, 
in order to avoid the humiliation of being disarmed. 
"I wish to be buried with my sword and decorations," 
said a dying German Captain. I promised him that 
his wish should be respected and he died contented. 

With the most admirable devotion, the nurses car- 
ried the wounded soldiers to the ambulances and, 
very soon, a long convoy was moving along the An- 
gleur road. At every jerk, cries and groans could be 
heard. 

Towards evening, I was alone on the battle-field. 
A gloomy twilight lit up this plain of the dead. Dis- 
agreeable odours mingled with the sweet scent of the 
woods. There was not a murmur, not a rustle or 
sound, everywhere peace and silence! On the torn- 
up, hollowed-out ground, were heaps and heaps of 
dark-looking, horrible terrifying things. . . . 



CHAPTER V 
The Retreat of the 800 

By Captain of the 14TH Line Regiment 

Among the episodes of the war, there is one which, 
thanks to the brilliant result obtained, deserves men- 
tion in the glorious pages of our history. It is the 
retreat carried out by two infantry battalions, the 
one of the 34th Line Regiment, and the other belong- 
ing to the fortress. The episode occurred eight days 
after the occupation of Liege by the German troops 
when the place appeared to be completely invested. 
The 1st Battalion of the 34th Line Regiment, after 
organising the defence works of Werihet, in the Bar- 
chon-Pontisse sector, was sent during the morning 
of August 4th, to the Embourg-Chaudfontaine inter- 
val, with the mission to defend the valley of the Vesdre, 
in case of any attacks on the Vesdre road or on the 
Ninane road. Retrenchments were quickly con- 
structed, ditches dug, and quantities of sacks of earth 
piled up. In short, the interval was soon transformed 
into a regular fortress. The Commander, on hearing 
that the enemy was advancing on Liege and had sent 
out reconnaissances in the direction of Chaudfontaine, 
ordered a patrol to explore the Rochette wood to the 
north-east of the Fort. This patrol returned towards 

34 



The Retreat of the 800 35 

four in the afternoon, bringing Baron von Zutfen, 
Lieutenant of the 2nd Chasseurs of Ziethen, as pri- 
soner. This feat was cheered, and it was with lively 
curiosity that our soldiers gathered round the first 
German prisoner. 

The order to retreat given, on August 6th, to the 
troops fighting in the intervals round the Liege posi- 
tion did not affect this Battalion, so that all day long, 
on August 5th, 6th, and 7th, the men were employed 
in completing the defence of the valley. During the 
morning of August 8th, the news spread that German 
troops had entered Liege. Measures were immediately 
taken for repulsing any aggression from the town side. 
It was hoped that, even if the enemy had succeeded 
in penetrating, it might only have been by forcing 
the Fleron, Evegn£e, and Barchon intervals. If this 
were the case, though, the situation was critical for 
the Belgian Corps, and the Commander was surprised 
that he had received no instructions. From another 
side, persistent rumours were afloat, announcing the 
arrival of the campaigning army through Waremme, 
reinforced by a French contingent. What were we 
to believe? Messengers sent to General Leman did 
not return and the days passed by in anxious waiting. 
Every instant we had news to the effect that the 
circle was getting more and more hard pressed. Offi- 
cers and soldiers were anxiously wondering whether 
they would be able to hold out. On the 10th, nth, 
and 1 2th, there had already been various skirmishes 
between detachments of the enemy who had made 
use of the Red Cross flag in order to approach, and 
patrols of a company in retrenchment on the Vesdre 
road, near the second milestone. A few enemy 
prisoners were taken. 



36 Brave Belgians 

On the 1 2th, at 4.30 p.m., a terrible bombarding of 
the Chaudfontaine Fort commenced, which never 
ceased until 9.30. The following morning at five 
o'clock, the cannonading recommenced most violently, 
the Fort was blown up, and the enemy surrounding it 
rushed from every side to the assault. The Embourg 
Fort met with the same fate. Finally on the morning 
of the 13th, towards nine o'clock, a courier arrived 
at Chateau Nagelmackers, where the Commander was 
staying, with an order from General Leman calling 
for the troops at Awans. 

Just as the 2nd Company, which had been guarding 
the Chaudfontaine and Ninane roads, was setting 
out, it was surrounded by an enemy column and 
taken prisoner. The two remaining companies climbed 
the hill and reached the Henne Chateau and the Basse- 
Mehagne farm. On arriving there, the 1st Company, 
which formed the rear-guard and was being attacked 
on its flank by a detachment coming from Chenee, 
executed a helter-skelter firing on the adversary, 
whose shooting gradually became less and less intense. 
Finally, the enemy retreated, so that the little Belgian 
column was able to continue its march towards Em- 
bourg, where it rejoined the 3rd Company as well as 
a fortress battalion, which was also without instruc- 
tions and was endeavouring to escape. These various 
troops, after crossing the Ourthe, some in little boats 
and others by a chance foot-bridge thrown across the 
river opposite Rousseau Island, climbed the Sart- 
Tilman, keeping by the Boncelles Fort, which was 
already being watched by the enemy, passed through 
the village in ruins, driving back the sentinel occupy- 
ing the Vecquee woods and, just escaping a cavalry 
detachment, finally reached the Communes. 



The Retreat of the 800 37 

Our poor soldiers were thoroughly exhausted; 
they had been overpowered by the heat and tortured 
by hunger and thirst. Fortunately the population, 
although somewhat taken aback by their arrival, 
did all in its power to supply them with provisions. 

The retreat then continued in the direction of the 
Val St. Lambert bridge, which, according to informa- 
tion received, was being guarded by about a score of 
men. Although obstructed by a train and various 
accessory defences, it could still be crossed in Indian 
file. All measures were taken for a bayonet attack 
and, in the middle of the night, our men advanced 
silently. To their amazement there was no one there. 
What had become of the troops which had charge of 
the defence of the bridge? Had they made off? 
This remained a mystery. The crossing of the bridge 
took some time, but the men were encouraged by this 
incident and the column set off once more, passing 
through Flemalle and Mons-Crotteux. After a most 
difficult march, beset by ambushes of all kinds, it 
finally arrived at Awans-Bierzet, on August 14th, 
at about 2.30. It took up its quarters here, whilst 
awaiting orders from General Leman. The enemy 
had been seen in the neighbourhood, so that the roads 
were guarded and urgent measures of security were 
taken. Various incidents took place before the end 
of the day and German detachments, which were 
approaching the Loncin Fort, had to be dispersed, 
causing us some losses. 

From information received from various sources, 
we gathered that the enemy was endeavouring to cut 
off the retreat. In case this were so, there was nothing 
left but to fight to the last man. The soldiers and 
their officers were very much troubled, as they feared 



38 Brave Belgians 

they had not rendered all the services to their country 
which it had a right to expect from its defenders. 
The bombarding of the Loncin Fort began at 3 p.m. 
and increased rapidly in intensity. 

To those military men who had been present at the 
fall of Chaudfontaine, it seemed certain that Loncin 
would share the same fate. There appeared to be 
only one thing to do and that was to join, at all costs, 
the righting army, certain elements of which were 
then in the Huy suburbs. After such intense ner- 
vous excitement as they had just undergone, after 
so much fighting and such long marches, the men 
were exhausted. Thanks to the rousing words of 
their chiefs and to their own earnest wish to avoid 
falling into the hands of the enemy, they decided to 
make a supreme effort in order to escape from the 
vice, the jaws of which were gradually closing round 
them. The posts were withdrawn silently, between 
8 and 9 P.M., and the column, assembled behind the 
church, was prepared to take its fate into its hands. 
The commanders of the Hollogne and Flemalle Forts 
were informed that friendly troops would soon be 
passing within their zone of action, in an attempt to 
join the army in campaign. 

A somewhat extraordinary itinerary was chosen, 
in order to avoid the most frequented roads. The 
column was to go from Awans-Bierzet to Hollogne, 
Mons-Crotteux, Horion-Hozemont, Haneffe, Chapon- 
Seraing, Villers-le-Bouillet, and Huy. In spite of 
fatigue, which made this night march excessively 
difficult, not a single man dragged behind, not a 
single one fell out. Each one of them was determined 
to carry out the plan decided on. In the early dawn, 
the column was within sight of Haneffe, which was 



The Retreat of the 800 39 

evidently in the power of the enemy, as a platoon of 
Uhlans was to be seen patrolling the country round. 
Fortunately this was not an important detachment 
and, after a feeble resistance, it was driven out of the 
village. 

The Belgian troop continued its march southwards. 
At seven o'clock, it surprised a flank guard of the 
same cavalry bivouacking in a field. At a distance 
of about five hundred yards, the elements at the 
head of the column opened fire and the Uhlans, with- 
out even having time to mount, took flight in all 
directions. They were impeded by their riding boots 
and spurs. Some of them stumbled and fell and, on 
getting up, started off faster than before. This 
excited our men to hurry along in pursuit of them. 
Two of the least agile of the horsemen were caught 
and taken prisoners. The horses took fright, broke 
loose, and galloped all over the country. The sight 
would have amused us if it had not been for the dead 
and wounded who were lying on the ground. 

The valiant little troop now continued its way in 
the direction of Chapon-Seraing, where the soldiers 
had refreshments and then went on to Villers-le- 
Bouillet, which was to have been the end of their 
trying march, as, according to our latest information, 
the 28th Line Regiment was there. Once more we 
were to have a cruel disappointment, as, on arriving, 
we found that the troops which had been occupying 
the village had left the previous evening. 

Fortunately Huy was only five miles distant. 
Another effort was made, and slowly, with bleeding 
feet, exhausted by fatigue and half dead with hunger 
and thirst, the soldiers, leaning on sticks which they 
had torn from the trees on the way, dragged them- 



40 Brave Belgians 

selves along the dusty horse-road. This last stage 
of the journey, although the shortest, was the most 
painful of any. When once we had reached Huy, 
there was still another disappointment. The 28th 
had left the town at midnight. From the heights 
which dominate the left bank of the Meuse, could be 
seen enemy patrols. From one minute to another, 
strong enemy forces might appear. The men were 
terribly exhausted. In spite of the overwhelming 
heat, they had marched for sixteen hours at a time, 
during two days. The question was would they have 
strength enough to start again and to continue their 
march as far as Couthuin, where the 28th had gone? At 
the station there was neither an engine nor a waggon. 
After some parleying, however,' the station-master of 
Huy-Statte succeeded in getting a train from Nam&che 
and, at 12.30, the column set out by rail for Namur. 

In spite of the extreme fatigue of these brave men, 
it would be impossible to give an idea of the joy de- 
picted on all their faces. Nothing could prove the 
determination of each one of them to escape the enemy 
better than the result obtained by this supreme effort. 
Not one of those who left Awans on the night of the 
14th had fallen out of the column. Every man of the 
little phalanx answered to the roll-call at Namur. 
At the College de la Paix, where they were all quar- 
tered, the doctors soon dressed their bleeding feet. 

Thanks to their force of character, to their excep- 
tional powers of endurance, and to their extraordinary 
courage, these heroes escaped a humiliating captivity. 
A few days later, they were to be seen once more on 
the battle-fields of Antwerp and of the Yser, fighting 
desperately with the enemy, and ready again to 
sacrifice their lives for their country. 



CHAPTER VI 
Chaudfontaine 

(August, 19 14) 

By Count Gaston de Ribaucourt, Sub-Lieutenant of the 
Heavy Howitzer Corps 

As soon as the mobilisation was decreed, I went to 
the War Office to ask what services I could render 
as electrical engineer. I was advised to go, as quickly 
as possible, to the fortified position of Li£ge, as tech- 
nical help was needed there for preparing the defence. 

I arrived there the evening of August 3rd and, the 
following morning, was engaged for the Chaudfontaine 
Fort. The next thing was to fit myself out. I went 
at once to the Citadel, which looked like a huge hive. 
Every different service was in full swing and the most 
perfect order and activity reigned. Ten minutes 
later, I was equipped as an artilleryman and, with my 
bag in my hand and my field-glasses strapped round 
my back, was on the way to the train which took me, 
after changing, to the foot of the hill which dominates 
the Fort. 

It was a warm, bright August day and I climbed the 
steep hill at a rapid pace, without giving a thought 
to the beautiful landscape around me. An hour 
later, I had reached that little nest of defence which 

41 



42 Brave Belgians 

we call a fort, and was glad to be able to offer all the 
energy, intelligence, and knowledge that I possessed 
for the service of my country, which was symbolised 
for me by the flag which floated at the summit of 
the hill. 

Everything had already a warlike aspect. Here 
and there, trees had been felled in all their verdure. 
Barbed wire trellises had been stretched across the 
most accessible passes. Sentinels stationed here and 
there stopped me and, after questioning me and 
hearing why I was there, gave me a friendly salute. 
An orderly on guard took me to the officers in charge. 
I was at once received, installed in my new quarters 
and welcomed with enthusiasm and with that feverish 
energy which characterised the combatants of our 
heroic resistance. 

I set to work at once, for I had much to learn. In 
the first place, there was the observation of the firing 
range, then the regulating of the cannons and all the 
electrical mechanism of the accessory services, the 
registering of the mine chambers, of the wire entangle- 
ments, etc. All this took up the rest of my morning 
and it was only later on that I could begin to think 
of the special functions which had been delegated to me. 

Concealed among the hills which dominate the 
east of Liege, protected in a semi-circle by one of the 
windings of the River Vesdre, the Chaudfontaine 
Fort, of triangular form, was intended, together with 
the Fleron and Evegnee Forts, to cover the Herve 
plateau. From its position, it seemed as though it 
would be the object of the enemy's first efforts. 
Behind the Fort, emerging from the abrupt slope of 
the valley, could be seen, standing out against the 
sky, a corner of Liege, that corner which was so fami- 



Chaudfontaine 43 

liar to all Belgians, thanks to the Exhibition of the 
75th anniversary. In the foreground, a little to the 
right, about a mile and a half away, was Chevremont 
Abbey, and on the slopes were the villages of Romsee 
and Magnee, their red roofs, and their active, suburban 
life giving a gay touch to the landscape. 

A telephone message suddenly broke the calm, by 
announcing the approach of the enemy. The village 
of Foret, situated on the east, became the object of 
all our attention, and very soon we saw the sombre 
procession of grey uniforms appearing on the scene. 

The Commander of the Fort assembled his men on 
the parapets and, after a few rousing words, gave his 
little garrison the order to open fire. When the first 
cannon was fired, each man returned quickly to 
his post. As my service was the observation of 
the firing range, I hurried to the plain and, under 
cover of the surrounding woods, reached the spot 
which had been indicated to me. Thanks to my por- 
tative telephone, I could then direct the first shooting. 
At the second firing, the shells and shrapnels burst 
over the village and it was at once evident that the 
quick firing from the Fort and the batteries were pro- 
ducing excellent results. With my field-glasses, I 
could distinctly see the enemy stop short, hesitate, 
and finally retreat, as it was hopeless to fight with an 
invisible adversary. 

This prompt defence probably preserved our Fort 
from the terrible assaults sustained, during the night, 
by the neighbouring ones. The simultaneous attack 
of all the forts of the Vesdre-Meuse sector was one 
of the most impressive sights I witnessed during the 
whole campaign. It began in the evening by an in- 
tense bombarding by the German light artillery, 



44 Brave Belgians 

answered heroically by the whole Li£ge defence. The 
incessant cannonading was dominated by the louder 
voice of the big fortress guns. The wan flashes from 
the cannon burst forth in thousands, while through 
the darkness the crude searchlights were projected, 
in an attempt to find the enemy's batteries. From 
time to time, during a moment's calm, could be heard 
the cries and moans of the German wounded, caught 
in the barbed wire and fired on by the machine-guns. 
All this gave a magnificent, and at the same time, 
frightful, aspect to the scene. 

The following day, the morning was more calm, 
when suddenly we were informed that an infantry 
regiment, after creeping through the woods, had taken 
possession of the Foret Chateau. Posted on the 
parapet, I directed open firing on the enemy there. 
The distance had been very exactly gauged, so that 
our prey was an easy one and our first shell fell right 
on the building. 

Just as from an ant heap, suddenly destroyed by a 
kick, myriads of Boches rushed out, seeking refuge 
among the trees of the park and in a hollow road 
near by. Carefully directed, the projectiles followed 
them everywhere and reached them in their hiding- 
places, so that very soon the lawns were strewn with 
wounded or dead men. The enemy was once more 
obliged to disappear and nothing was now to be seen 
but convoys of ambulance cars, taking away those 
over whom Death had only hovered. 

The resistance now became more and more difficult, 
as the enemy had managed to place batteries at points 
near enough to the Fort to reach it without being 
exposed. It was, therefore, necessary to discover 
fresh observation posts. I was designated for this 



Chaudfontaine 45 

service and, accompanied by a corporal, I set 
out. For nearly an hour we advanced, burrow- 
ing and hiding, in order to discover the enemy's 
positions. It was my first experience with shrap- 
nels rifling the ground in every direction, in 
order to prevent observation. The Germans fired in 
volleys of four and, every time we heard the projectiles 
arriving, we had to lie down and then get up directly 
after the explosion, in order to locate the batteries. 
I discovered them, at last, behind a hedge in one of 
the Romsee gardens. As soon as I had informed the 
Fort, a few shots were fired in order to find the exact 
spot and then the German batteries had such a deluge 
of fire that, in less than a quarter of an hour, the posi- 
tion was considered impossible by them and at once 
evacuated. But the iron circle was gradually closing 
round us. After two days of heroic effort, the 3rd 
Division had been obliged to retreat, leaving the forts 
to their fate. Threatened on all sides, it was indis- 
pensable for us to establish a high observatory which 
should supply us with necessary information, as this 
was absolutely lacking since the departure of our 
covering infantry. 

A few miles to the left of the Fort, the spire of the 
Chevremont church stood out proudly against the 
sky. The old abbey, a vestige of a former epoch, was 
to help in our powerful modern defence work. By 
order of the Commander of the Fort, I set out in the 
night, to establish, as invisibly as possible, a telephonic 
line which should connect the observatory with the 
Fort. Fastening the wire through the brambles which 
abound in this district, and placing it along the road, 
I was fortunate enough to see my efforts crowned with 
success. Getting the wire into the abbey was more 



46 Brave Belgians 

difficult. Fortunately I was able to make use of the 
poles which served for the electric light. I had to 
replace the wire of the lightning conductor, along a 
stake, by a telephonic wire and, following the other 
canalisations, bring it as far as the church. This 
took me a good part of the morning, but, by ten 
o'clock, after inventing a whole system of cords and 
ladders, I was finally established in the top of the 
spire. Thanks to a slate I had removed, I could see 
the country round to the east and north-east and, by 
means of the subterranean telephonic wires, I could 
communicate information concerning the slightest 
incident at Fleron and at Evegnee, and thus render 
valuable service to the defence. 

For the next four or five days, I lived inside this 
spire, with a sub-officer. Twice only, a Belgian patrol 
paid us a visit. The rest of the time, only Germans 
prowled round. Many were the alerts which sur- 
prised us. A dozen men, belonging to the German 
infantry, spent half a day inspecting the abbey to 
see if there were really no Belgian soldier hidden there. 
Another day, just as we were looking through our 
window, we caught sight of a German patrol looking 
up. That was an alarming moment. We wondered 
what to do. If we moved away, it would make a 
change in the appearance of the window. By stay- 
ing, we risked betraying ourselves and should prob- 
ably be killed. This torture lasted half an hour. 
At a certain moment, I saw six men of the patrol 
take aim at the window. Fortunately, the sub- 
officer evidently thought better of it and did not give 
the command to fire. Remaining motionless had 
saved our lives. Two men who had inspected the 
tower had reported to their chief that there was 



Chaudfontaine 47 

nothing suspicious, and the seven Boches went away 
slowly, singing as they went. 

August nth was fatal to us. In the morn- 
ing, towards six o'clock, although I had taken the 
precaution to hide in a closed chapel, I was noticed 
by a man in the neighbourhood. Two hours later, 
when I was at my post of observation, I saw that the 
abbey, and particularly the church, was the aim of 
the enemy. After three or four trial shots, a shell 
reached the roof of the church and then the volleys 
were repeated quickly. I was just endeavouring to 
locate an enemy battery which was bombarding 
Fleron from Beau-Tilly. Whilst I was giving indica- 
tions about this, I was obliged to climb up into the 
steeple, which was the only place of escape from the 
firing. Batteries concealed behind the Chenee sta- 
tion were destroying the abbey. What terrible 
moments I spent up there ! I was alone in the steeple, 
as my companion had gone to take his meal and could 
not get back to me. I stayed there as long as I could 
give any useful information. For two long hours the 
projectiles rained on the abbey. Presently, the 
steeple itself was hit. A shell burst in the wood- 
work over my head, took off my forage cap, and 
smashed the telephone in front of me. I was almost 
buried under the heaps of slate and wood and was 
half stunned by the violence of the blow. I thought 
my last hour had come. It was only at that moment 
that I thought of my tragic position and, on turning 
round, I saw that the roof of the choir was on fire. It 
was quite time to get away. As I descended the 
ladder, I discovered that I was slightly wounded in the 
knee. It was only a big surface wound though. I 
pulled myself together, rushed quickly down and, 



48 Brave Belgians 

amidst all the debris that was falling on every side, 
made my way to the cellars, which the Fathers, the 
last few days, had been transforming into a shelter. 
An impressive scene awaited me there. In the middle 
of the subterranean vault, two Fathers and my 
companion were kneeling in prayer round the Holy 
Sacrament, which they had taken from the church 
at the beginning of the bombardment. Their joy 
was great on seeing me appear, for they thought I 
must have been dead some time. 

For the next hour, we remained there, praying God 
to protect us. In the meantime, a great part of the 
abbey fell in. Nothing remained of the church but 
ruins. The valuable library was now only a heap 
of cinders, and was still burning. 

Believing that they had attained their end, the 
German batteries now ceased firing. We were obliged 
to spend the rest of the day, though, amidst these ruins, 
which presented a sinister appearance, and wait until 
the darkness to go back to the Fort. In the night, feel- 
ing that at any rate we had done our duty, the sub- 
officer and I started on our way, stealing along for 
two miles, through country occupied by the enemy. It 
seemed a long, long way, beset as it was with danger. 
Several times we had to crouch down and hide until 
German patrols had passed by, only a few yards 
away from us. Finally, we caught sight of the out- 
line of a Belgian sentinel and, a few minutes later, 
were back in the Fort, where the story of our adven- 
tures was enjoyed by all and we were congratulated 
by the officers. 

August 1 2th was a wretched day for us, as 
there was no more observation possible. The big 
cannons had begun firing and our last moment was 



Chaudfontaine 49 

approaching. The hours seem interminable when the 
firing is only haphazard from the remaining cannons, 
and when one fires with the idea of using up the ammu- 
nition, quite as much as for the sake of endeavouring 
to injure the enemy. 

Chaudfontaine was in a deplorable state. We could 
have no light at night, as a shell had fallen, without 
bursting, into the chimney of the steam engine. The 
Commander was determined to defend his Fort up to 
the very last and had posted men on the slopes to 
fight with the bayonet and endeavour to repulse the 
attack which was expected in the night. 

With our hearts full of fury, we were all determined 
to give our lives for our King and our Country, and 
our fellow-feeling caused the soul of each man to rise 
to the same level. Whilst the others were keeping 
watch, with the help of a few men I endeavoured to 
get the accursed shell out of our machinery. It was 
nearly three in the morning when we succeeded in 
our task. Everything was quickly put in order, and 
it was with a hearty outburst of our national anthem 
that our brave men greeted the light which poured 
from the electric projectors twenty minutes later. 
This seemed like life renewed, and with it came re- 
newed hope. Another day had commenced and the 
Fort was not taken. That morning, alas, all hope 
was crushed, for, as soon as it was daylight, huge 
projectiles came at regular intervals and we could 
not reply to them, as they came from too great a 
distance. Towards nine o'clock, when I was in the 
officers' shooting gallery, a shock, accompanied by a 
terrific report, shook the whole interior of the Fort. 
An immense "38" had just burst in the powder-room 
and the Fort was blown up. I was thrown against 



50 Brave Belgians 

the opposite wall, and dragged myself to the door 
through the debris. With another officer, I crossed 
the hall, which had been transformed into a barracks, 
and there a fearful sight met my eyes. At the moment 
of the explosion, a hundred and forty men of the 
garrison had been lying there on straw or on mat- 
tresses, and now, in tragic horror, I saw the whole of 
this place on fire. Straw, mattresses, and soldiers, 
all were burning together! In the midst of this 
brasier, wretched men were struggling, with their 
clothes all in flames, like veritable living torches. 
We could scarcely drag one of them from the furnace. 
It was a horrible death, worthy of the martyrs of 
old. From the midst of the fire, dominating the 
groans, moans, and shrieks of suffering, some voices 
could be heard uttering the supreme cry of "Hurrah 
for the King!" "Hurrah for our Country!" 



CHAPTER Vn 

Loncin Fort 

From Accounts by the Army Doctors: Maloens, of the 
3rd Battery of Heavy Howitzers; Courtin, of the 
ist Chasseurs; Roskam, of the 14.TH Line Regiment; 
Defalle, Director of the Calais Municipal Creche 
Ambulance; and Quartermaster Krantz, of the 
Gendarmerie 

On the morning of August 6, 1914, Lieutenant- 
General Leman suddenly arrived at the Loncin Fort. 

"An attempt has just been made to assassinate me," 
he said to Captain Naessens, Commander of the Fort, 
"I have come to take refuge behind your cannons." 

The Captain immediately asked him for orders. 

"I have no orders to give you here," replied the 
General. "You give your own orders in the Fort. 
My business is to attend to the defence of the fortified 
position." 

The Commander of the Fort immediately called his 
men together and addressed them in French and in 
Flemish : 

"General Leman has done us the great honour of 
taking refuge with us, my boys," he said. "Shall 
we give up the General?" 

51 



52 Brave Belgians 

There were cries of "No! No!" on all sides. 

"Well, then, if we have decided not to give up the 
General, we shall perish here. For, either the Fort 
will be blown up and I shall be blown up with you, 
or the Germans will come up here to attack us 
and, when they have passed the accessory defences, 
walking over the dead bodies of their own men, 
we shall form a last square. I shall keep seven 
bullets in my Browning, six for my enemies and 
the last for myself and we will all go together to 
Paradise." 

Commander Naessens, a short, thick-set man, with 
a very determined face, and steel-blue, piercing eyes, 
was adored by his men, and this speech was greeted 
with indescribable enthusiasm. 

"You must all swear that you will never yield," 
he cried, in the midst of the tumult. Thereupon, 
one by one, the soldiers filed up to their Commander 
and took this solemn oath. 

From that moment, Naessens had his men thor- 
oughly in hand. They would stand by him to the 
very death and his greatest pride was to be able to 
reply to the General's question: "Are you sure of 
your men?" with the words: "As sure as I am of 
myself, General!" 

It was quite true, too. They were absolutely 
ready for anything. If volunteers were wanted 
for a dangerous expedition, double the number 
needed volunteered to go and they all beseeched 
the Commander to let them be the ones chosen. 
Those who were not accepted went away greatly 
disappointed. 

Three or four of those brave fellows had formed 
themselves into a band which was known as "the 



Loncin Fort 53 

Bonnot Band." Armed with guns or carbines, these 
explorers set off, each day, in a motor-car and acted 
either as a liaison between Loncin and the Forts which 
were still holding out, or as a patrol for getting infor- 
mation for the Commander, with reference to the 
presence of the enemy. Their daring was amazing. 
On one occasion the Commander's horse, whilst graz- 
ing in a neighbouring enclosure, had been killed. 
This "Band" promised to provide him with another 
mount. A few hours later, they returned with the 
horses of two German officers, laden with helmets 
and lances. 

After the combats round Liege, soldiers of the 1st 
and 4th Unmounted Chasseurs and of the 9th and 14th 
Line Regiments, men who had lost their units, came 
to take refuge in the Loncin Fort, but, the following 
day, the Commander sent an officer with them to 
Waremme, only keeping for himself his own garrison 
cf about five hundred men. This number was really 
sufficient and, during the terrible days from August 
6th to 15th, the calmness and indifference to danger 
of these men were admirable. 

During a violent bombardment, General Leman, 
on coming into the central building with Commander 
Naessens, saw a little scene which moved him to tears. 
The men, scattered about in little groups, were play- 
ing cards or talking together quite tranquilly, whilst, 
in one corner, indifferent to the noise, a soldier was 
playing some Liege cramignons on a flute, and his 
comrades, standing round him, were singing the 
refrains in chorus. 



54 Brave Belgians 

The following notes are taken from the diary of Quartermaster 
Krantz of the Gendarmerie, who had been appointed bodyguard 
to General Leman. After the explosion of the Loncin Fort, 
Krantz, with eight serious wounds, was taken to the St. Servais 
College of Liege. 

August Jth. The fortress Infantry, sent out to 
reconnoitre, called our attention to a patrol of Uhlans 
on their way from Ans to Loncin. It was at once 
dispersed by one of our sub-officers, at the head of his 
section. We learnt from some courageous men that 
the German Field Artillery had taken position near 
the Ans aviation base. 

August 8th. During the morning, German patrols, 
which had reached Awans, were driven back by our 
shrapnels and our Infantry. At three o'clock, the 
Fort opened fire with its twelve-centimetre guns over 
the Ans aviation base, where our reconnaissances 
had signalled enemy batteries and a movement of 
troops. 

August gth. I have been to Liege, where I heard 
that the Germans were bringing heavy artillery in 
order to attack the Forts. I told the General, and 
he ordered me to watch the movements and the pas- 
sage of this artillery. He also gave me the mission 
of examining whether the Nasproue tunnel near 
Dolhain were practicable. I discovered that the 
line, which we had destroyed, had been repaired by 
the Germans, as they had no other way for their 
" 420" cannons. During the afternoon, the Fort fired 
on various enemy batteries. We observed that a 
Taube had come down on the Ans aviation base 
and we fired on it violently with shrapnels. We also 
took a patrol of Uhlans prisoners on the Tongres 
road. 



Loncin Fort 55 

In the night, we bombarded a mass of troops quar- 
tered in the direction of Awans. 

August loth. The enemy bombarded with about 
thirty shells of light calibre, which caused no further 
damage than to chip one of our chimneys. The Fort 
replied on the enemy's batteries near Ans. I was 
sent to discover the movements of the troops and 
returned with important information. Among other 
things I had been informed of the installation of a 
post of observation by the Germans, in the steeple of 
the church on the Ans plateau. We fired on this 
steeple and brought down the tower, thus rendering 
it impossible for observation purposes. 

August nth. Calm. Reconnaissances in all direc- 
tions by motor-car. 

August 1 2th. Morning, terrific and rapid bom- 
barding by the Germans. We replied each time with 
great energy and with very exact aim. Unfortunately, 
the cupola of one of our twelve-centimetres was soon 
injured, but, during a lull, we managed to repair it. 

The entrance to the Fort was also hit. We cap- 
tured four more Uhlans. During the night, reciprocal 
bombarding. 

August ijth. We noted that the heavy German 
Artillery had commenced action. A violent firing 
from guns of 150 millimetres injured two of our 
cupolas. 

August 14th. At three in the morning, we were 
bombarded by Howitzers of 280 and 305mm. The Fort 
shook to its foundations, an iron whirlwind broke 
loose in perfect avalanches over the exterior surface, 
and the gusts continued, every other two minutes, 
for some hours. After each shock, fragments of 
cracked and powdered cement fell on our heads. 



56 Brave Belgians 

A grey dust, mingled with thousands of glass splin- 
ters from the window-panes, crackled under our feet, 
parching and irritating our throats and nostrils. The 
Fort was gradually crumbling. A 305 shell entered 
the Infirmary, killing and wounding several soldiers. 
At eleven o'clock, the clothing stores met with the 
same fate and, one after another, various buildings 
were destroyed, also the electric material, the venti- 
lators, and the draw-bridge at the entrance of the 
Fort. 

At about three or four in the afternoon, a truce- 
bearer asked to be allowed to speak to the Commander 
and demanded the surrender of the Fort. 

"We prefer dying to surrendering," answered Cap- 
tain Naessens. It was a proud answer and it ex- 
pressed the general feeling. Towards evening, the 
firing slackened and everyone could rest. During 
the night, a Staff officer slipped out, taking away 
with him the various valuable papers belonging to 
the position. 

August 15th. What a terrible day! From five 
in the morning, the bombarding has been continual, 
coming in gusts. Four crashes, one after another, 
and then a whizzing, a fall, and explosions in the 
cement. The shells penetrated to a depth of half a 
yard, digging out holes of four yards square. To- 
wards eight o'clock the soldiers' rooms were wrecked, 
their beds overturned, and windows, fastened with 
iron bars eighteen centimetres thick, were broken; 
the Infirmary, the operating room, the kitchen, re- 
fectory, and the General's room were swept away. 
Everything was destroyed, not a single place re- 
mained which could serve as a shelter. The Fort is 
now in ruins from top to bottom, and we are in 



Loncin Fort 57 

complete darkness and scarcely able to breathe, on 
account of the poisonous and noxious gases, as not a 
single ventilator works. Only two cupolas remain 
with which we can reply to the enemy's terrible 
avalanche. We are not continuing, though, as we 
do not know where the enemy's batteries are 
and they are certainly beyond our reach. During 
a lull, this morning, another truce-bearer paid us a 
visit. He was not escorted and carried a white flag. 
The sentinel ordered him to halt and to return, so 
that he should not be able to communicate any infor- 
mation with regard to the result of the adverse firing. 
On the Boche's refusal to obey, the sentinel ordered 
him a second time to halt and, as the second time he 
refused to obey, he was shot down. He had time to 
signal with his white flag before falling to the ground 
dead. We believe, and it is also the opinion of our 
officers, that this supposed truce-bearer came treach- 
erously to take his bearings for the firing of the 
four hundred and twenty guns, and that he sacrificed 
his life for the sake of giving the exact spot to the 
Artillery. Immediately after his death, we had to 
endure a very exact and continued bombardment. 
It was on this day, August 15th, that the Germans 
employed their famous "420" Howitzers. 

From time to time, we saw the General and the 
officers walking about in the open on the fortification 
glacis, observing the enemy, with the most admirable 
sang-froid and an utter disregard for danger. The 
most miraculous and incomprehensible thing was that 
not one of them was injured by the explosions on every 
side of them. 

At 5.20 in the afternoon, General Leman, Captain 
Naessens, Lieutenant Modard, their two Sub-Lieu- 



58 Brave Belgians 

tenants, several other sub-officers and I were in the 
shooting gallery, and, although the Fort was practi- 
cally destroyed, our brave, valorous chiefs continued 
giving orders. The others were sitting down in the 
central passage awaiting events. Suddenly we heard 
the protracted whizzing sound of a big projectile. 
"Here's another!" said one of the men in the passage. 
A huge burst of flame and then a formidable shock 
which flung us all against the wall and then — nothing 
but silence! 

Quartermaster Krantz's diary stopped here. He 
had fainted and did not come to himself until he was 
in the hospital. 

Dr. Courtin, who had the good luck to come out 
of the explosion uninjured, soon regained his presence 
of mind. 

"I found myself lying on the ground," he said, 
''after a faint. It was very difficult to breathe, 
but fortunately a little air from a broken window 
reached me. I managed to get up and found that 
Dr. Maloens was lying at my side. His face was 
bleeding and I gave him a few drops of brandy. 
Nearly all the men had instinctively protected their 
eyes. All of them remembered their oath and re- 
fused to surrender. A remarkable example of heroism 
was given us by a young soldier who was at the end 
of a passage. He was black with powder, his clothes 
were in rags and he had two holes covered with blood 
in place of pupils to his eyes. He continued shooting, 
nevertheless, until he had used his last cartridge. 
On approaching him, we discovered that one of his 
feet was wedged between two blocks of stone and it 
had to be amputated so that he could be released. 



Loncin Fort 59 

"In the meantime, a few men who had escaped 
injuries managed to get out through the window, by 
taking down the bars. As I knew the passage, I 
moved slowly forwards in the darkness and found all 
the windows blocked. Suddenly, I saw a ray of 
light filtering through some pieces of cement which 
had fallen. By widening the aperture, I managed 
to get out. All round the Fort, our poor men were 
hurrying along in flames, half wild with pain. Others, 
on their knees, were reciting prayers. It was a fright- 
ful sight!" 

In the evening, a German Colonel went to the Liege 
Military Hospital to say that a terrible explosion had 
destroyed the Loncin Fort. Two or three doctors, 
one of whom was Dr. Defalle, started immediately 
to this Fort. "We met some of the wounded," he 
told me, "coming along the Thier d'Ans road and, 
as we went along, we kept meeting motor-cars 
and pedestrians. In the villages, nearly all the in- 
habitants were at their doors, anxiously looking out. 
At Ans plateau, where the church steeple had been 
razed to the ground, we met a cart in which General 
Leman was lying. The cart was drawn by two horses 
and the General was accompanied by Staff Deputy 
Commander Collart and by a German officer. The 
General, who had just been taken from the ruins 
through a hole in the escarpment, was still half suf- 
focated, and his face was blue. He had no wound 
visible though, and he was perfectly conscious. 1 
On reaching the Fort, I found it was surrounded by 
numerous enemy troops of different arms and parti- 

1 This was confirmed by a letter from Captain Commander 
Hauteclerc to Mile. Leman, the General's daughter. 



60 Brave Belgians 

cularly by the Engineers. Some of the soldiers were 
waving a large Red Cross flag, in order to stop the 
firing from the Hollogne Fort. The explosion had 
chiefly affected the south-east part and the moats 
there were filled with the debris. The central masonry 
was destroyed and encumbered with blocks of cement. 
The cupola was knocked down. There was very 
little smoke, but, from time to time, detonations, 
caused by the cartridge stores exploding from the 
heat. 

"From these ruins, could be heard the most un- 
earthly groans and cries. The poor, suffering men, 
who were burning there, were begging us to help 
them. Blocks of stone or cement had to be raised 
and sometimes we were obliged to saw off a limb, 
in order to release these brave men. They were 
partly carbonised, quite black, and almost naked, 
when we succeeded in transporting them to a meadow 
near. From there they were taken to the town. 
In the counterscarp, separated by the moat, were 
some flanking coffers. The occupants of these had 
not been able to get back to the central construc- 
tion, as the subterranean passage was obstructed. 
After some hours of labour, we were able to push 
in the ventilation gratings and to get the half suffocated 
men out. 

' ' The Loncin inhabitants, overwhelmed with anguish, 
watched our terrible work. The recruiting had been 
local and they all dreaded lest they should recognise 
a member of their own family in these poor tumefied, 
charred bodies, with burnt hair, which were dragged 
from under the debris. They helped the doctors in 
bandaging and in administering the morphia for 
attenuating the traumatic shock. They gave the 



Loncin Fort 61 

patients soothing drinks and installed them in their 
houses. Nearly every house had its wounded men, 
who were sent as soon as possible to Liege, either 
to the Military Hospital, the ambulances of the 
Daughters of the Cross and of the Jesuits, or to the 
one in the Rue des Rivageois. 

"The Germans seemed surprised at the immensity 
of the catastrophe. Their officers, particularly those 
belonging to the Engineers, endeavoured to ease the 
suffering of the victims. When a few shots were fired, 
though, from the Waroux wood, they changed their 
attitude, blamed the Belgians, and talked of reprisals. 
We doctors reminded them that our lives were as 
much in danger as theirs, and that that fact did 
not prevent us from doing our duty. The Boches 
were somewhat confused and were quiet after this. 
Towards ten o'clock at night all the wounded were 
removed." 

"I was at the St. Laurent Hospital," said Dr. 
Roskam, "when the wounded were brought in, to- 
wards nine in the evening. The sight of these poor 
men, with frizzled hair, black hands and faces, and 
scorched clothes, was frightful. The Germans took 
them for Senegalese. In the operating-room, scenes 
took place which filled us with horror. On taking 
off their clothes, shreds of flesh were torn off, legs and 
arms separated from the body, and horrible wounds 
and burns of all sorts appeared. There was a fright- 
ful odour of carbonised flesh. What made this scene 
more poignant still, was the courage, the stoicism of 
all these men who did not complain. 

"They had scarcely come to themselves again after 
their dizziness, from which they were roused by the 



62 Brave Belgians 

suffering caused by the washing of their wounds with 
green soap, when they asked after their Commander 
and their Lieutenant. Many of them had tears in 
their eyes when they heard that their chiefs were saved 
and they asked to be carried into the ward where 
Naessens and Modard were lying, seriously wounded. 
The two officers could scarcely recognise their men, 
thanks to powder, bandages, scars, and swollen 
features. They encouraged and congratulated them 
nevertheless, and in all justice. The whole of the 
time these men were in hospital, they were admirable. 
Horribly burnt, some of them blind, some with the 
sight of one eye gone, in many cases the drum of the 
ear perforated and the patient suffering from otitis, 
they endured everything with resignation, never 
complaining, grumbling, or protesting in any way. 
They were veritable heroes. When the first to 
recover started for Germany, Naessens and Modard, 
who had never intended to leave their soldiers and 
who were obliged to stay longer in Liege, in order to 
finish their cure, were carried to the court-yard by 
the men-nurses, in order to say a last farewell to 
the brave men who adored them!" 



CHAPTER VIII 

Haelen 

(August 12, 1 9 14) 

By Colonel Baltia, Chief of Staff of the ist Cavalry 
Division 

After defending Liege, the 3rd Division rejoined the Belgian 
Army, which had taken up its position on the Gette. The ist, 
3rd, and 5th Divisions were placed in the first line; the 2nd and 
6th in the second line, whilst the 4th defended Namur. These 
forces were covered by the Cavalry Division which was first placed 
at Waremme. It fell back on St. Trond and then on the left of 
the army, thus lengthening the line from Tirlemont to near Diest. 

On the 12th of August, the enemy Cavalry endeavoured to force 
the passage of the Gette at Haelen. Against six regiments of the 
2nd and 4th Divisions of German Cavalry, supported by the 7th 
and 9th Battalions of Chasseurs and by three batteries, that is 
4000 horsemen, 2000 foot-soldiers, and 18 cannons, the Belgian 
Cavalry opposed victoriously 2400 horsemen, 410 Cyclists and 12 
cannons. 

(See Army Commandment Report.) 

For several days, detachments of the enemy Cavalry 
had made daring attempts at all the points of our line 
of defence along the Gette, but had found it well 
guarded everywhere. 

On August 1 2th, our intrepid reconnaissances, 
consisting of officers of the Guides and Lancers, iri- 

63 



64 Brave Belgians 

formed us that the enemy had been reinforced every- 
where, and we had the distinct impression that an 
effort to pierce our line would be made at Haelen. 
We were on our guard and if the Division of German 
Cavalry hoped to pass there, it would meet the princi- 
pal mass of the Cavalry Division of the Belgian Army. 
The enemy imagined that we were scattered all along 
the river, as we had been the preceding days, from 
Diest to Drieslinter, but it did not know that, by a 
skilful manoeuvre, Lieutenant General de Witte, only 
leaving the minimum of our forces at the secondary 
points of the passage of the river, had constituted 
an important reserve, which was in readiness to receive 
the enemy. 

Whilst this mass was forming, General de Witte gave 
into the hands of the Colonel of the 5th Lancers the 
standard which this newly-formed regiment had just 
received. On that very day, this valiant troop won 
the honour of having "Haelen" inscribed on the im- 
maculate silk of that standard. 

The Battle Ground 

The sun, which on rising had appeared sulky, now 
burst forth in all its splendour, lighting up the farms 
and the white farm-houses scattered along the road 
which unites Loxbergen and Haelen and winds be- 
tween fertile fields, which were still partially covered 
with their rich harvests of corn and oats. The 
Division had made its headquarters on the border of 
Loxbergen, from which spot there is an extensive 
view. To the left is a narrow valley encircled with 
poplars and willows. Here and there are to be seen 
the red roofs of houses. On the brow of the hill 



Haelen 65 

dominating the valley, a Belgian battery was installed. 
The bells of the Church steeples of Diest rang out 
clearly and solemnly. In the distance could be seen 
the outline of the little, low-built church of Haelen. 
This little straggling town, almost unknown hitherto, 
was destined to be the witness of the violent, brutal 
effort of the German Cavalry to dislodge the Belgian 
Cavalry and open a way for itself into the heart of the 
country, after reaching the flank of the Belgian Army 
covered by the Cavalry Division. The Germans 
counted on having their revenge this time for all the 
successes that the Belgian Division had won during 
the first eight days of the campaign. They expected 
to avenge themselves on the Belgians, who had swept 
away their reconnaissances, their patrols, their posts of 
liaison and their centres of information and entirely 
disorganised their clever but fragile look-out system. 

The First Firing 

Presently, the lights of an incendiary fire were to be 
seen. It was the signal given by the German recon- 
naissances to let their army know that we had baffled 
their plans. 

Our brave Cyclist-Carabineers were already at 
work, valiantly defending the position they occupied. 
With the help of the Cyclist Pioneer Pontonniers, they 
had made excavations, deepened the ditches, arranged 
hedges and fences, barricaded the roads and paths, 
installed their machine-guns in favourable positions, 
and were now determined to inflict a severe punish- 
ment on the invaders. 

As soon as the first squadrons of Dragoons and 
Hussars appeared, the firing broke loose. The enemy 



66 Brave Belgians 

hesitated a moment and then, urged on by their 
chiefs, took fresh courage and fired on our little Cyclists 
with their rifles, machine-guns, and cannons. The 
cowardly cads who led, or rather pushed them on, 
had protected themselves by placing unoffensive 
inhabitants of the villages whom they had hunted 
up, in front of them. 

Our riflemen, well hidden, took aim calmly, and at 
every shot, a pointed helmet, a colbah or a schapska 
rolled on the ground and a man, dressed in grey uni- 
form, fell among the harvest. Our "diables noirs" 
fell back, step by step, defending every furrow of 
ground and every bush. 

German Cavalry Charges 

r Suddenly, the avalanche of German squadrons 
appeared and, in a wild gallop, rushed on the foot- 
soldiers, who sustained the shock without flinching, 
replying with their guns and bayonets. 

The squadrons, excited by their gallop, continued 
their way until they came to the Belgian Lancers, who 
had alighted behind the Cyclists and who now re- 
ceived the charge with a running fire at short distance. 

The gallop of these yelling, clanging masses shook 
the very ground, and the long, piercing lances looked 
as though they must overturn everything in their way, 
but at the first discharge of our Lancers' carbines, 
aided effectually by the four machine-guns manipu- 
lated calmly by Lieutenant Scouvemont and Lieuten- 
ant Ouverleaux, and by the firing of three squadrons 
of the ist Guides, stationed to the right of the battle- 
field, the mass whirled round and was scattered. The 
first squadrons were followed by others. The second 



Haelen 67 

charge was received in the same way as the first one, 
and the third one like the second. Seven charges one 
after the other were broken up. 

The moment was a tragic one. A quantity of horses 
was tearing wildly about, mad with terror and pain, 
and red with blood. Some of them came rushing 
against the horses of our Lancers. The panic spread 
among these, and, in a moment, an immense troop of 
horses was tearing about the plains amidst the firing 
of guns and the dry bursting of the shrapnels. Our 
soldiers, unmoved, reloaded their guns and prepared 
to repulse any further attacks, scarcely stopping to 
give a pitying glance at the dead bodies of friends and 
enemies around them, or at the wounded, who were 
groaning in pain. 

Fresh Attacks of the Enemy 

Those in command of the German Cavalry, recognis- 
ing the inefficacy of their charges, sent no more horses, 
but their horsemen on foot, with carbines, supported 
by their machine-guns. 

These men advanced over the plain, creeping in 
amongst the corn, crouching down in every shelter 
offered by the ground, and hiding behind the sheaves 
to escape the terrible fire of our courageous and skilful 
men. 

Six regiments of Dragoons, Hussars, and Cuirassiers 
were already engaged and were advancing with great 
difficulty, when the help of two Battalions of Chasseurs 
was sent to them. 

Our Artillery then entered into action. The first 
Horse battery, manipulated by an energetic officer 
quite sure of himself, sent his shells and shrapnels 



68 Brave Belgians 

with straight aim on to the Cavalry and foot-soldiers 
covering the plain and, at the same time, covered 
with his destructive shells the Haelen bridge and the 
village, in which the fresh Cavalry regiments were 
massed together which had come to reinforce and 
support their comrades. Under the pressure of super- 
ior numbers, our Cavalry had hard work to hold out, 
but it did not budge an inch whilst giving our Infantry 
time to arrive. 

Arrival of our First Reinforcements 

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when our first 
help appeared: three Battalions of the 4th Regiment 
and two of the 24th, accompanied by a group of Ar- 
tillery. These troops had started from Hauthem- 
St. Marguerite at 10.30. Part of the Infantry was 
sent to Velpen, to reach Haelen from there, and the 
other part was sent, as a reinforcement to the de- 
fenders of the Yserbeck Farm. 

The Artillery supported these two attacks, but 
unfortunately, of the two batteries which took posi- 
tion at the Loxbergen Mill, only one could open fire 
without being immediately counter-attacked by the 
German Artillery, which was in position to the north 
of Velpen. 

Whilst the Infantry was on its way to Velpen and 
Yserbeck Farm, the 1st Cavalry Brigade took to horse 
and went in the direction of the left wing of the 
battle-field. 

The 2nd Brigade, which had been in action for 
seven long hours, now went in search of its horses. 

At 7 o'clock, Yserbeck Farm, or rather the smoking 
ruins of this farm, were retaken by the Leconte 



Haelen 69 

Battalion, and Velpen was reconquered by the Rade- 
maekers Battalion. 

All around us were horses with broken limbs, blood 
streaming from their nostrils and wounded sides. 
Some of them were dying in the ditches by the road- 
side, or in the fields. Others were galloping wildly 
about, their saddles swinging between their legs. 

Then began the pitiful procession of the wounded, 
who, with haggard faces, were dragging themselves 
with difficulty towards the rear. Some of them went 
along, bent nearly double, walking in the ditches. 
Others were supported by the ambulance men, or 
by priests of the ambulance contingent. Some, too, 
were carried on stretchers, or even in their coats held 
at the four corners. 

Standing up, in the middle of the road, disdainful 
of the destructive shells which struck horses quite 
near them, or of the shrapnels which hit the horses 
they were leading, or of the bullets which whizzed 
through the branches, General de Witte and his Staff 
watched the various phases of the struggle, giving 
to the troops a fine example of fearlessness in the midst 
of danger. Debris of all kinds strewed the ground, 
ammunition waggons came galloping along the road, 
bringing fresh supplies, whilst along the whole front, 
fires lighted by the shells sent up their sinister light 
and bitter smoke towards the clear sky above. 

Victory I 

The battle seemed still undecided when the sun 
was sinking in the horizon, but just then, our artillery 
men noticed a retreating movement of the enemy's 
line, which, driven by our Infantry, was beginning to 



70 Brave Belgians 

fall back towards the bridge and village of Haelen. 
Our men immediately opened fire, with all their 
cannons, in the direction of the passage along which 
the fugitives were pouring. The latter, in spite of the 
efforts and threats of their officers, drew away with 
them the Cavalry regiments that had just come to 
their rescue. The retreat, as night came on, degener- 
ated into a wild helter-skelter, which went on as far 
as Hasselt and Herck-St. Lambert, where the defeated 
troops fortified themselves hastily, in order to be able 
to oppose an eventual pursuit. 

The dismal croaking of the crows could now be 
heard in the night which was already almost dark. 
The galloping of the frightened horses, spurred on 
cruelly by their riders, hammered on the pavement. 
Under the ceaseless rain of projectiles from the Belgian 
guns, the ten German regiments, magnificent as they 
had been in the morning, formed now only a disorderly 
mob trampling on the foot-soldiers, the dead, and the 
wounded, and abandoning their officers and even 
their Generals. At the other extremity of the battle- 
field, could be heard the songs of victory of the Belgian 
troops, triumphing in their first feat of arms. 

The Night after the Combat 

Gradually, the battle-field became silent, a veil of 
darkness, of mourning, and of terror covered this 
ground, where so many young men, who only the day 
before were so happy to live, were now sleeping their 
last sleep, or moaning in pain, abandoned to their fate. 

The silence of night, which followed the hell-like 
noise of the day before, seemed more profound than 
ever. The stars, which were already twinkling, and 



Haelen 71 

the moon, shining in all its brilliancy, were a startling 
contrast to the horrors before our eyes. Our thoughts 
became clearer as we walked slowly along in the 
direction of our quarters. The tension of our nerves 
was at last relaxed. Many of us had not found our 
horses again. They had disappeared, and some of 
them had been killed in the tumult. This walk in the 
darkness of night gradually soothed our minds, and 
the memories of all that had happened became clearer. 

Heroes. Courageous Deeds of our Soldiers and Officers 

We thought of that cyclist, brave Royer, belonging 
to the Cavalry Division of the Staff. He had gone 
out resolutely, in the very midst of the fight, to bring 
in an officer, Lieutenant Waepenaere, who had been 
wounded in the thigh when he was leading out some 
timid foot-soldiers to the fray, young men who had not 
been under fire before. This brave soldier went back 
a second time into the furnace to get a machine-gun 
that had been abandoned and that he had to bring 
back on a cart. He then returned a third time to shoot 
two German cavalry men with his revolver. He had 
seen them hiding behind the sheaves and they had 
fired on him when he was bringing back his Lieu- 
tenant, and again when he was returning with the 
machine-gun. He brought their two helmets with 
him on his last expedition. 

This intrepid young man was from Liege and he 
performed these three courageous acts in the most 
natural manner possible, convinced that he had merely 
done his duty as a soldier. He was very much sur- 
prised when he was appointed Corporal for his fine 
conduct. Later on, he was always ready, day or night, 



7 2 Brave Belgians 

for the most dangerous expeditions. His career 
ended gloriously, for he was killed in an army motor- 
car expedition, during the Pellenberg fight. 

We thought, too, of that young soldier who had been 
horribly wounded and whose arm was all slashed. 
With his valid arm, he held out a piece of his gun 
to his General, crying out: "I still have my gun!" 
Then, too, there was that other one who had to be 
helped along by two of the ambulance men, but who 
insisted on carrying his trophy, which was a German 
lance. 

We thought, too, of those other courageous ones: 
Thiery and Prince Baudouin de Ligne. They had 
both enlisted as motor-car volunteers for as long as 
the war should last.! i They obtained permission to 
go to the firing lines with the foot-soldiers, whom they 
stimulated by their example. They had made a 
trench, six of them together, had occupied it and, for 
an hour, had held out against superior forces, whilst 
endeavouring to take a machine-gun. 

Our thoughts went out to many, many heroes, whose 
brave deeds we cannot relate here. Among them were 
Major Bourgouis and Major Stacquet; Commanders 
Demaret, Vandamme, and Wacquez; Captains Lequ- 
eux, Panquin, Van Vlierberghen; Lieutenant Stoops 
and Sub-Lieutenant Marr6e, who were killed, and 
Major Rademaekers, Commander Dujardm, Lieuten- 
ants Mortier, M. Van Damme, A. Desmet, Ch. Albert 
and Chevalier de Waepenaere, all of whom were 
wounded. 

Our Belgian race and our corps of officers gave proof, 
during that first shock, from the first moment of their 
baptism of fire, of all the bravery of their cool energy 
and of their unflinching tenacity. 



Haelen 73 

After the Victory 

It was broad daylight, the following morning, when 
we mGved onwards towards Haelen. There was 
intense activity at Loxbergen; motor-cars and ambu- 
lances were taking their loads of wounded men to the 
Infirmary that had been installed in the school. They 
were laid there, side by side, on straw that was soon 
stained with blood. The atmosphere was impreg- 
nated with the odour of disinfectants. Sisters of 
Mercy, priests, doctors, and ambulance men lavished 
every care on them, seeking to alleviate their sufferings, 
to console them, to bring a gleam to their dim eyes 
by the mention of their absent families, of their homes, 
of their wives and children. 

The most hardened heart would have given way at 
the sight of those poor naked bodies, writhing with 
pain, of those mutilated limbs, of those twisted arms, 
and of those beseeching looks, there, in the midst of all 
the rags and bandages, uniforms, boots, and weapons 
flung in a heap in the corner, or on the school desks, 
where only a few days before, happy Belgian children 
were learning to read and to love their country. 

The Battle-Field 

On leaving that den of pain and suffering, we felt a 
sort of relief in the open air, but this was not of long 
duration, as the sight of the battle-field filled us once 
more with anguish. 

In front of the church of this little village, and 
already covered with dust, dead horses were lying, 
overturned carriages, trampled straw, remains of food, 
and of fires, and all the vile chaos that an army leaves 
behind it. 



74 Brave Belgians 

On the outskirts of the village, on the Haelen road 
we saw the first dead bodies of Germans, with their 
faces tumefied and their limbs rigid. They were lying 
in the most extraordinary positions. A Cuirassier 
was still holding on to a charger supplied with am- 
munition ; farther on a Dragoon was lying face down- 
wards, his leg bent backwards. 

Presently we reached the little farm which had been 
fought for all the day. The house was torn asunder 
by shells and the barn reduced to ashes. The pigs 
were loose and wandering round the ruin. 
j| As we advanced towards Haelen, the number of 
corpses increased. At the spot where the encounter 
between the riflemen had taken place, an almost 
continuous line of German and Belgian corpses 
showed what desperate fighting there had been. An 
officer of our 24th Line Regiment and a Dragoon 
officer were lying there, side by side. Which of the 
two had lived to see the other die? What drama was 
hidden under the contact of these two bodies ? 

At Haelen, the drama was poignant. In most of 
the houses there were gaping holes and the walls were 
all knocked about. 

The street was covered with debris of all kinds. 
Hundreds of horses were lying with their heads crushed, 
their bodies open, or their backs broken. A nauseous 
odour almost choked us. 

The courageous inhabitants had already buried 
the dead in huge graves, which they had dug near the 
village, and they were now beginning to take away the 
dead bodies of the horses. 

At the corner of the street, a waggon with its can- 
non had been abandoned, as the wheels were broken. 
A little further on was another waggon, containing 



Haelen 75 

ammunition, which would have to be drowned in the 
little river. In a wide ditch, was the dead body 
of a horse almost covering the body of an officer 
of the Dragoons, whose head alone was visible, 
emerging from the stagnant water. 

On the Square, we picked up the Belgian flag, which 
had been floating at the Municipal Building. It had 
been snatched down by the Prussians, torn and dragged 
through the mud. We had it put up again, just 
as it was, and we saluted it with deep respect, little 
thinking then that it would soon be the emblem of our 
poor country, torn, violated, and trampled under foot 
by a barbarous soldiery. 

On our return, we took the tragic path where our 
indomitable Cyclists had held out so heroically. 
The broken bicycles, the dead bodies of our "diables 
noirs" and of their adversaries, proved their courage, 
and the punishment they had inflicted on these Ger- 
mans, particularly on those of the 17th Dragoons, 
that famous regiment, composed of the flower of the 
Mecklenburg nobility. 

A little farther on, we met some soldiers carrying a 
ladder, on which a sub-officer of our Lancers was lying. 
He had been wounded in the knee. ' ' I have spent a 
terrible night, " he said, with a smile on his lips. "I 
was wounded and lying in a beet-root field by the side 
of a German sub-officer. After insulting me, he fired 
on me three times with his revolver, and lodged his 
last ball in his own head. He is still there in the 
field. " 

How long this walk back seemed to us ! We would 
willingly have closed our eyes. We could not help 
thinking of the mothers, sisters, and families of all 
those we had just seen there, men who had died for 



76 B rave Belgians 

threw a soLre %£?£££*£' *"»*• 

our first victory! P ln the memory of 



CHAPTER IX 
The Budingen Combat 

(August 1 8, 1 9 14) 

Death of Lieutenant Count W. d'Ursel. By Colonel de 

schietere de lophem, commander of the 

4-th Lancers 

The Combat of Budingen is an episode of the forcing of the 
Gette by the vanguards of General von Kluck's army. The 
attack extended from Diest to Tirlemont and was particularly 
violent at Tirlemont and at Hauthem-St. Marguerite. 

On the 17th of August, towards 6.30, in the even- 
ing, I received orders to go to Budingen, with the Staff 
of the 2nd Group of the 1st Guides. Early in the 
morning, the two Squadrons under my command had 
been sent from Geet-Betzi on reconnaissance: the 3rd, 
towards Looz and the 4th, in the direction of Oreye. 
It was, therefore, without troops that I arrived at 
Budingen towards 7.30 p.m. 

I took up my quarters at the Dubois farm where 
there was already a relief post. The passage of the 
Gette, the bridge of which had been destroyed, was 
defended by a Company of the 4th Line Regiment, 
installed in good trenches. The Commander, Lieuten- 
ant Dothee, informed me, though, that he had instruc- 
tions to go on to Cumptich during the night. As I 

77 



78 Brave Belgians 

could not remain alone in a locality so accessible to the 
enemy, I begged him to stay until other troops came 
to replace him, and I informed my Colonel of the situ- 
ation. During the evening, Captain Commander de 
Favereau was sent to my support. He was at the 
head of the ist Squadron of the 2nd Guides. They 
bivouacked in a field near my farm, and after having 
his horses attended to and his men fed, the Captain 
was ready at 2.30 to relieve the Company of the 4th 
Line Regiment. 

Lieutenant Formanoir occupied the bridge and the 
left bank of the Gette; Lieutenant Comte d'Ursel 
the trenches to the south, keeping watch, too, over the 
mill of the St. Job farm. Between them was Lieu- 
tenant Viscount de Jonghe d'Ardoye's platoon and, 
established in the chapel, 300 yards to the east of the 
bridge, a post kept watch on the Graesen and Leau 
roads. 

During the night there was no sign of any approach 
by the enemy and we were perfectly tranquil. Towards 
6.30, the 4th Squadron of the ist Guides, under 
Commander van den Branden de Reeth, arrived. 
His men were tired out after a very difficult reconnais- 
sance. They took some rest and supplied themselves 
with fresh provisions before occupying the northern 
sector. 

Towards 7 o'clock, I made an inspection of the 
positions. The defence did not reach sufficiently near 
Geet-Betz. I therefore sent Baron de Crombrugghe 
(a pupil of the Military School) with about ten horse- 
men, about 300 or 400 yards further north. At an- 
other place, I discovered a little foot-bridge which I 
ordered to be surrounded with brambles pulled up 
from the neighbouring estates. This passage was thus 



The Budingen Combat 79 

rendered impracticable. The soldiers were now at 
their posts everywhere, impatient to fight and anxious 
to distinguish themselves. 

On my return along the Gette, I heard a detonation. 
It was Lieutenant d'Ursel firing on some German 
soldiers, who were hidden in the woods a few yards 
away. I armed myself with a carbine and very soon 
caught sight of two Germans crouching down, prepar- 
ing to shoot us. I brought one of them down and 
d'Ursel accounted for the other. After shooting for a 
few minutes, we rendered several of our adversaries 
hors de combat. Suddenly a ball whizzed by and I 
heard a slight snapping noise to my right. On turning 
my head, I saw d'Ursel stretched inanimate on the 
slope of the trench. He appeared to be dead. One 
of the Cavalry, Simon, approached and raised the poor 
man's colback. A gaping wound was to be seen at the 
back of the unfortunate officer's head. What a pain- 
ful impression, and what a feeling of intense sadness a 
chief feels on seeing one of his bravest officers fall at his 
side! 

The combat was now going on all along the line and 
many balls whizzed by our ears. I hurried to the 
Dubois farm and ordered Commander van den 
Branden to bring his horses to the rendezvous to 
the west of the station, and to occupy the trenches to 
the north of the bridge, immediately, with as many 
men as possible, while the Squadron of the 2nd Guides 
continued to defend those on the south. After 
sending a patrol on horseback to Glabeck, to watch the 
stream between this hamlet and the Gette, I sent 
the doctors from the relief post to fetch d'Ursel and 
attend to him. The combat was violent, the enemy 
sending us bullets and shrapnels all the time. Our 



80 Brave Belgians 

men answered with great precision. All the enemy- 
sharp-shooters who ventured out of the wood were 
brought down. Fortunately, towards 8 o'clock, 
Quartermaster Bonnejonne, of the ist Chasseurs, 
arrived with a machine-gun. This was placed to the 
south of the bridge, under the direction of Lieutenant 
de Jonghe. 

A few minutes later, I received the following order 
by telephone: "In case the. line of the river should be 
forced, rally at Grootenbosch, to go to Vroen and 
Kersbeck-Miscom, " and at the same time the follow- 
ing notice: "Commander of Squadron of 2nd Guides 
at Budingen. By order of General commanding 
Cavalry Division, you pass under my orders, and have 
for mission to defend, to the uttermost, Budingen 
bridge. A machine-gun is at your service. Communi- 
cate with me at Geet-Betz. — Colonel ist Guides. " 

As I had the direction of the Budingen combat, I 
took these orders for myself. On going again through 
the trenches to the south of the bridge, I came to the 
spot where d'Ursel had been hit. The Lieutenant was 
lying at the foot of the slope and seemed to be asleep. 
An almost imperceptible wound marked the corner of 
his left eye with a red spot. 

"Well, d'Ursel," I said, "how do you feel?" 

Before he had even opened his eyes, he answered: 
"Ah, it is you, Major?" 

I was surprised to see that his eyes were clear and 
animated. 

"Are you suffering much?" I asked. 

"No, not much, " he answered. 

"I have given orders that you are to be taken to 
the relief post," I said. "With good care, you will 
soon be yourself again." He thanked me and then 



The Budingen Combat 81 

said: ''If I should not get through, will you tell my 
wife that my last thought was of her." 

I promised, but assured him that his wound was not 
at all grave and that the doctors would soon dress it. 
On seeing him perfectly conscious and calm, able to 
talk quite easily, I hoped that the ball had only gone 
round the skull, and that the wound at the back of the 
head was merely a slit caused by the exit of the pro- 
jectile. On leaving him, I gave orders for the removal 
of the wounded man. Unfortunately, the order could 
not be carried out, as the German attack now became 
more violent and more decisive. The enemy's shrap- 
nels reached our trenches and the number of the 
assailants increased every minute. At the chapel, the 
observation post had been compelled to fall back, 
and there were masses of enemy foot-soldiers there, 
who were being mown down by our machine-gun and 
by the platoons of Lieutenant de Jonghe and of 
Lieutenant d'Ursel. It was then a quarter past nine. 
A fresh order now reached me: "In case the river 
should be forced, rally at Vroen. — Colonel ist Guides." 

As I had previously received instructions to hold 
out to the uttermost, I considered it was my duty to 
resist still. My men were behaving admirably, but 
some of them declared that they heard balls whistling 
behind them. 

"You are mistaken," I said to them, "what you 
hear are the balls against the walls of the houses near. " 

Our machine-gun was now choked and could not be 
used for a time. Quartermaster Bonnejonne was 
wounded. Lieutenant de Jonghe managed to repair 
the mechanism of the gun and went on firing himself. 

At 9.30, I went to the village square, where Com- 
mander van den Branden was stationed. Two shells 

6 



82 Brave Belgians 

burst a few yards away from us. Just at this mo- 
ment, Brigadier Desterbeck, of the 4th Squadron of 1st 
Guides, who was on patrol with Glabeck, hurried to 
me to tell me that an enemy Company, preceded by a 
number of sharp-shooters, was coming along by the 
railway line from Geet-Betz towards Budingen. 

This changed the situation, as superior forces would 
attack my flank rendering our resistance useless. 
I gave the order to retreat and mentioned Grooten- 
bosch as our rallying point. 

Some Germans already occupied houses in the 
villages, and others had reached the big farm and the 
buildings to the west of the halt. The conditions of 
the retreat of our two Squadrons were therefore 
against us, as, in order to get to their horses, my men 
had to cross a space which was now being fired on by 
the adversary. This was a bad piece of ill-luck. 
Whilst the fight had been going on, some of our horses, 
terrified by the noise of the firing and by the bursting 
of the shrapnels, had escaped from their keepers and 
were galloping about on the plain. A wild chase now 
took place, in order that my men should capture their 
mounts. When they were once more in their saddles 
and the retreat had commenced, the Germans, hid- 
den in the farms, fired on them to the best of their 
ability. Fortunately, their aim was not good, so that 
only a few of our men were hit, more or less seriously. 
Captain Commander de Favereau had his left arm 
fractured and his horse killed under him. 

The moment was critical, as the enemy foot-soldiers, 
more and more numerous in the adjacent houses, 
continued firing, although nearly always unsuccess- 
fully. If their aim had been good, not one of us 
would have escaped. There was no time to lose and 



The Budingen Combat 83 

a rapid gallop saved our Squadrons from the enemy 
projectiles. 

As I was one of the last to leave the spot where 
the combat had taken place, when I went, at full 
speed, to the place where the horses had been left, 
men and mounts had started. Only Quartermaster 
Keucker de Wattlet and two or three others were 
there. It was impossible to find my horse. To avoid 
danger, as the bullets were whistling through the 
air on every side, I took refuge behind a house. Lucki- 
ly, a horse was just passing. I caught it, sprang into 
the saddle and set off at a gallop in the direction of 
Grootenbosch, across the open country. I was almost 
grazed by hundreds of bullets. It is perfectly incom- 
prehensible that I should have escaped uninjured. I 
drew up near a brick-kiln, and called out to the various 
isolated horsemen who rode past. About forty men 
were soon with me, when an important group of 
other Guides joined us, and told me of the presence 
of Cavalry between Dries and Miscom. At the head 
of these men, I went off in the direction of Hoogen, a 
hundred yards to the east of Grootenbosch, where 
I met Lieutenant de Formanoir with his platoon. I at 
once gave orders to this officer to reconnoitre the Cav- 
alry we had heard was on the plain. Twenty minutes 
later he returned, telling me that it was the ist Regi- 
ment of Guides on the way to Kersbeck-Miscom. 
It was then about 12 o'clock. 

It will be of interest here to give an extract from a 
letter sent to me by Dr. Lepape, who was wounded 
during the combat and taken prisoner. 

"At the beginning of the engagement," he said, "I 
was with Dr. Spelkens, near the Dubois Farm, which 
we had converted, as well as we could, into a relief 



84 Brave Belgians 

post. We each went our way, in order to make final 
arrangements about getting the wounded in as promptly 
as possible. Just then, only a few rare balls whizzed 
over the road, but there was firing, parallel with the 
railway line, at the horses grouped between the farm 
and the railway. It was here that I was first called 
for, and, whilst I was dressing wounds, I saw the helter- 
skelter among the horses, which were rearing and pull- 
ing at their tethers, in order to get away. It was all 
in vain that their keepers and the farriers endeavoured 
to soothe them. Afterwards, they tried to rally them 
in the direction of the level crossing. I saw Gevaert, 
the farrier, killed by a shot in his forehead. I was just 
getting up, as I saw my efforts were all in vain, when 
I was hit in the knee by a projectile. Fortunately, 
after extracting this and bathing my knee, I was able 
to continue my service. When our soldiers were 
retreating, I saw that they were being followed, at 
about a hundred yards' distance, by men in grey 
uniforms who were creeping along by the railroad. 
My orderly now came rushing back to tell me that we 
were retreating. I went into the farm and destroyed 
all the papers which the sub-officers had left there, 
when surprised by the alert. Among these papers 
were officers' lists, papers with the regiment headings, 
diaries of the campaign, letters, etc. I then went off to 
join the troops. I was unwise enough to spring on to a 
horse without thinking of my leg, so that a few yards 
farther on I fell off and fractured a rib. When I came 
to myself, all my papers and my weapons had dis- 
appeared, most of the houses were in flames, and a 
few Belgians, inside one of the houses, were still 
firing. A little while later, I saw troops of Infan- 
try with machine-guns and cannons filing along for 



The Budingen Combat 85 

about two hours. I remember a few things that I 
noticed : 

" 1st. The German officers made their men believe 
that we were French and not Belgians (the red trousers 
served as a proof). 

" 2nd. The doors and windows of the houses were 
systematically forced with the butt end of guns, and 
the dwellings were set on fire by means of plugs piled 
up in packets, that certain soldiers were carrying. 
In a few seconds the flame appeared and spread 
rapidly. 

" 3rd. The Germans wanted to shoot the prisoners, 
one of whom was a Quartermaster, because they had 
fired from a window, and this they said was contrary 
to the laws of warfare. As I could speak a little 
German, I endeavoured to interfere and, for my inter- 
vention, I received some heavy blows. I do not know 
how the matter ended. 

"The medical service was perfect. The service of 
burying was extremely faulty. The grave-diggers did 
not trouble about the Belgian dead, leaving them to be 
buried by the inhabitants. Needless to say they were 
robbed." 

As regards Lieutenant d'Ursel, I knew he had been 
wounded under the left temple, but I heard that he was 
dead when I was at St. Trond. According to infor- 
mation that I received, when the body of this officer 
of the Guides was identified, he was wounded in the 
face and heart. 

From this account, we see that the Germans attacked 
the Budingen bridge with considerable forces, that the 
two Squadrons of Guides resisted with the greatest 
bravery, and that, in compliance with their instruc- 
tions, they defended to the uttermost the passage of the 



86 Brave Belgians 

Gette. To my deep regret, I was obliged to leave 
Lieutenant d'Ursel on the battle-field. But I affirm 
that, at the time I left him, he had only one wound in 
the head and that if he was wounded afterwards in the 
heart, he had been killed when wounded, in contempt of 
the laws of warfare. 



CHAPTER X 
Aerschot 

(August 19, 1914) 

From the Report of Captain Commander Gilson, command- 
ing the 4TH Company of the ist Battalion of the 
9th Line Regiment 

The Belgian Army, two Corps strong, had held its observation 
position from the 5th to the 18th of August. It had resisted 
the attacks of the enemy cavalry and light troops. When 
attacked by eleven enemy Corps and three Cavalry Divisions, 
about 500,000 men, supported by 600 machine-guns and 1800 
cannons, it fell back on Antwerp. A lively rear-guard action took 
place between the nth German Corps and the 9th and 14th Line 
Regiments in the direction of Aerschot. 

On the 18th of August, 19 14, the 9th Line Regiment 
was entrusted with protecting the right flank of the 
campaign army, which was falling back in the direc- 
tion of Antwerp. The regiment left Kessel-Loo at 
2.30 in the afternoon, reached Aerschot at 7 o'clock 
and took up its position to the north, on the right 
bank of the Demer. The ist Battalion faced the 
Aerschot-Hersselt road; the 2nd, a little to the east, 
defending Door enb erg, a country house, inhabited in 
time of peace, it is said, by a German officer; the 3rd 
was first held in reserve, but after reconnaissance of 
the place, two of its Companies fell back, in order to 

87 



88 Brave Belgians 

rally the ist and 2nd Battalions and cover the retreat. 
The information which reached us, from time to time, 
was to the effect that the Germans were advancing by 
the Aerschot-Hersselt road, occupied by the 4th Com- 
pany of the ist Battalion. The Commander, Captain 
Gilson, an officer of great bravery, who had given 
proof of what he was capable in the Congo, at once 
endeavoured to consolidate his position by defence 
works; barricades, beams, and heaps of earth were 
brought to obstruct the level crossing of the Antwerp- 
Hasselt railroad; barbed wire was stretched across 
the threatened road, the plains of which could be swept 
by two machine-guns, placed on the right and left and 
protected by grass earthworks. 

As to the Company, it was disposed in the following 
manner: the ist Platoon, under Lieutenant Fauconier, 
was ranged along the Aerschot-Herenthals railroad; 
the 2nd Platoon, under Lieutenant Jacquet, and the 
3rd Platoon, under Adjutant Theys, took up their 
position along the curved embankment of the Hersselt 
road, one of them guarding the west sector and the 
other the east. A watch-out post, composed of twelve 
men, under the command of First Sergeant Schee- 
naerts, was placed six hundred yards away from mile- 
stone 2, near the Aurondenberg Mill, to the summit 
of which an observer climbed. Finally, sentinels and 
patrols went on further to the front and were sta- 
tioned on the flanks, in order to avoid surprises of 
any kind. 

On the 19th of August, towards five o clock m the 
morning, the observer signalled the approach of a 
column of German Infantry and Cavalry on the 
Hersselt road. Their scouts soon reached our watch- 
out post, which fell back. In the distance, could be 



Aerschot 89 

heard the characteristic sound of the artillery guns 
rolling along the pavement. 

The enemy's advance guard stopped at the border 
of the woods, about four hundred yards to the north 
of the railway, whilst, at the extreme right, six scouts 
continued their advance in the direction of the level 
crossing. Commander Gilson told his sharp-shooters 
to keep in hiding and to let the enemies approach. 
When he saw them about a hundred yards away, he 
seized his gun, aimed calmly and deliberately, and 
brought down three Boches, one after the other. The 
three others, alarmed, threw themselves into a ditch. 
Fresh scouts, in greater number this time, replaced 
them immediately, and the German vanguard Com- 
pany deployed to the east and west of the road and 
commenced firing. The Belgians did not reply, but 
when the enemy, scarcely attempting any conceal- 
ment, made a bound forwards all along its line, Gilson 
commanded the opening of fire with rifles and machine- 
guns. The aim of the latter was so remarkable and so 
precise that the Commander could not help crying out 
" Bravo" to the nearest gunner. Under this aval- 
anche, the enemy Company was almost wiped out. 

From this moment, the Germans never ceased send- 
ing reinforcements to the right and left of their initial 
deployment. They emerged from the woods, at 
about three hundred or four hundred yards to the 
north of the Belgian line, but, as soon as they were in 
the open, their march was stopped by the fire of their 
adversaries. Four Companies attempted the passage 
in vain and retreated into the woods, leaving a great 
number of their men on the plain. Towards four in 
the afternoon, the German Artillery, placed beyond 
the crest of the hill, probably near milestone 3, opened 



90 Brave Belgians 

fire, first on the border of the wood to the north of 
Aerschot, then more to the south, on the town itself. 
Some of the shells burst in the Belgian line. Half an 
hour later, two German machine-guns were put into 
action and one could hear their " Ta-ra-ta-ra " distinct- 
ly in the midst of the detonations of the musketry. 
On account of the absence of any smoke, though, the 
Belgians could not discover their exact position. 

Finally, Commander Gilson, with his field-glasses, 
caught sight of one of the enemy machine-guns on a 
heap of wood. An observer, crouching down, gave the 
necessary indications to our gunner. He, in his 
turn, passed the information on for the machine-gun 
nearest him and to a few sharp-shooters, and, in a few 
minutes, the German gun was reduced to silence. 

The Boches brought up another one, and, in spite of 
its proximity, Gilson had the greatest difficulty in 
locating it. As soon as he had done so, thanks again 
to his field-glasses, he directed the firing himself and 
brought down two of the enemy gunners. 

As they could not succeed in breaking through the 
Belgian front, the Germans now executed a turning 
movement in the direction of our left. Three or four 
Companies crept along the west embankment of 
the Herenthals railway, whilst other troops came 
out from the De Heide Woods, situated still farther 
west. The Artillery, too, came nearer and took posi- 
tion at about seven hundred yards away, on the side 
of the Mill, the gallery of which concealed an observer. 
Four guns . then executed a rapid firing of shrapnel 
exactly over the Belgian line; the others continued 
bombarding the town of Aerschot and its outskirts. 
On the crest of the hill, to the east, could be seen the 
outline of grey masses on the way down. In order to 



Aerschot 91 

oppose this turning movement, and to prevent the 
enemy cutting him off, Colonel Flebus, in command of 
the 9th Line Regiment, sent a Company to occupy the 
railway line behind Aerschot, at the height of the 
milestone 23. He would have a safe retreat there, if 
the position became impossible. 

The enemy was concentrating its chief effort, 
though, on the 4th Company of the 1st Battalion, the 
men of which had been sustaining a very unequal fight 
for several hours. Commander Gilson sent a note to 
the Major by a cyclist, notifying : ' '4/ 1 severely engaged. 
Germans outflanking us to the left. Can I count on 
a reinforcement?" This request was transmitted to 
the Colonel, who sent a Company to support the 4/1. 
In order to reach the spot occupied by Commander 
Gilson, this Company had to cross an open space 
which was being swept by the enemy Artillery estab- 
lished at Geymelberg. The firing to bar this way 
made it impossible for the reinforcement to advance. 
It was all in vain that the men endeavoured to hollow 
out shelters for themselves, rapidly, as the machine- 
guns raked the trenches, thus causing many victims. 
Under these conditions, the Colonel judged a retreat 
necessary and ordered the different Companies to 
fall back by the railway, under the protection of the 
troops placed there in reserve. The despatch bearers, 
with the order intended for the 4th Company, were 
killed on their way back, though, and Commander Gil- 
son remained without instructions and without rein- 
forcements. He saw the Companies, occupying his right 
leave, one after the other, in the direction of Aerschot. 

The fate of this single troop, left alone to sustain 
the brunt of the enemy's onset, is told by Commander 
Gilson himself in the following words : 



92 Brave Belgians 

"On seeing the various Companies moving off 
in the direction of Aerschot, I understood that 
the position of the regiment was impossible. Two 
explanations came at once to my mind: (a) either 
the order to retreat has been sent and has not reached 
me, (b) or the care of protecting the retreat is left 
officially to me. Considering the precarious situ- 
ation of the regiment on march under the fire of the 
German Artillery, a situation which would soon be 
considerably worse if I ceased to hold back the impor- 
tant forces of the enemy and left them the opportunity 
of flinging themselves upon our troops, I decided to 
cover the retreat of the regiment and to fight, if need 
were, to the last man. In spite of this resolution, in 
order to encourage my soldiers, I called out to them : 
' Courage, hold out a few minutes more. Our com- 
rades will come to the rescue.' 

"As no reinforcement arrived, though, my men real- 
ised the final sacrifice I was asking of them. In the 
midst of the uproar of the fray, I reminded them of the 
promise they had given me at Liege to hold out to the 
death. ' This is the moment, to know who are brave 
men!' I added. All who heard me answered with a 
nod of approval and a gesture of disdain for the 
Germans. At the same time, I sent my Major two 
more notes, exposing to him my position and telling 
him my resolution. They did not reach their destina- 
tion, the despatch bearers were killed in the street at 
Aerschot, the entrance to the town being literally 
under a rain of projectiles. 

1 ' Towards seven o'clock, I sent a soldier to the cross- 
roads to find out if all the regiment had passed south- 
wards. During my retreat, I found his dead body at 
the entrance to the town, his head nearly blown off 



Aerschot 93 

by a shrapnel. I recognised him easily by his wallet 
of white linen. 

" From quarter past seven, we were almost surround- 
ed by forces which I reckon must have been at least 
ten Companies strong. The firing was so violent that 
it was impossible for me to communicate with Lieuten- 
ant Fauconier's Platoon, forming a defensive angle 
to my left. 

''Towards seven-thirty, Lieutenant Jacquet, placed 
on the left of the road, called out to me that the posi- 
tion could no longer be held, as the Germans had 
turned round us and were firing on us from the back. 
I saw this myself, but I considered that it was too soon 
to let go, as the enemy might still catch up with the 
regiment. I told Lieutenant Jacquet, by shouting 
and by gesture, that we must still hold out, in spite of 
everything. This officer replied ' Good! ' simply by the 
military salute. 

1 * The fight continued in the following manner : The 
Germans had brought up six machine-guns, two on our 
front, two on our right, and two in the second line. 
The artillery guns were firing continually, some on 
the town, and the others on our line. We went on like 
this until seven fifty-five. One of our machine-guns 
gave out ; it was pierced by balls. I tried to save the 
second. The gunners endeavoured to draw it back, 
but, during the few minutes that this was taking place, 
it was hit by balls and damaged. We flung it into the 
ditch. The regiment was now out of reach and it 
remained for me to save those of my men who were 
still unscathed. A hundred of them, either killed or 
wounded, were lying on the embankment. They had 
fallen at their post. Others had gone a few yards 
farther back before falling. I whistled for the retreat, 



94 Brave Belgians 

giving the command: 'In rank, to the left, we are 
going to beat a retreat slowly. Adjutant Theys, 
with your right section, you will protect the rest of the 
Company.' At that instant, a ball hit me in the 
face. I made a sign to Lieutenant Fauconier to begin 
the movement. He started, followed by Jacquet's 
Platoon, and then by They's Platoon with the last 
section, which I accompanied. The retreat was 
accomplished without any hurry, by creeping along, 
which was the only way possible. In spite of this, 
many of my men fell in the open space that we had to 
clear before reaching the entrance to the town. This 
entrance was literally swept by balls and shrapnels. 
As I was quite the last, behind all the others, with 
seven men, two of whom were wounded, I took refuge 
close to a building and fired five cartridges on the 
enemy who were closing up round us. I took from a 
dead soldier, the roll of maps of 1/40,000 that I had 
entrusted to him, and flung it into a well. 

"During a lull, we set off again and finally reached 
the deserted station. We asked for news of the regi- 
ment. Some of the inhabitants, wildly excited, 
assured us that the troops had taken the Louvain 
road. We followed the railway line in the same direc- 
tion, crossed some gardens and went by the same 
road. 

"I am proud to testify in the first place to the ad- 
mirable, intrepid conduct of my three Platoon officers 
Lieutenant Fauconier, Lieutenant Jacquet and Adjut- 
ant Theys. I cannot find words strong enough to tell 
how heroic and how sublime their conduct was. 
Under the fiercest fire, they remained absolutely calm 
and, with utter fearlessness of death, they carried out 
orders and accomplished, in the most perfect way, 



Aerschot 95 

the mission of protection which we had the great hon- 
our of receiving. Their sang-froid, their spirit of 
abnegation, their sentiment of comprehension of a 
sacred duty was transmitted by them to their men. 
I take the liberty of asking for a token of distinction 
for these three officers, whether living or dead. 

" I do not yet know who has survived of this Com- 
pany. I only know that the losses must have been 
very great. I salute, with intense emotion, the mem- 
ory of the brave men who fell, and I salute, with all 
respect those who are still living. All of them, and I 
repeat all, behaved as heroes. I would also specially 
mention those who remained with me at the very last : 
Quartermaster Sergeant Van Wynendael; Corporal 
Deltombe, who was wounded; Corporal Fernand 
Bauwens, and Private Berlens. These four soldiers 
supported me and, at a given moment, almost carried 
me during the retreat, when, through loss of blood, 
I began to feel weak and my sight became dim. 

"Commander Georges Gilson, 
"Provincial Government Ambulance 
"Antwerp." 



CHAPTER XI 

A Few Episodes of the Retreat of Namur 

By Captain Paulis, Artillery Commander 

The bombardment of Namur commenced on the 21st of August, 
at 10 o'clock a.m., and was directed simultaneously on the Andoy, 
Marchovelette, and Cognelee Forts, as well as on the intervals. 

During the morning of the 22nd of August, the garrison made 
dashes in the direction of the besiegers' lines. They were greeted 
by a violent discharge of musketry and by the fire of machine- 
guns. Towards 10 o'clock, on the arrival of three French Batta- 
lions, an attack on Wartet was attempted, but the troops were 
compelled to fall back and the bombardment continued without 
respite. 

On the 23rd of August, at three in the morning, after 
the hard fighting of the preceding days, overwhelmed 
by mental and physical fatigue, I had fallen into a 
troubled sleep. An order which was brought to me 
roused me completely. The last batteries we had 
were to be taken to the Citadel, immediately, for the 
defence of the town redoubt. 

This was the end of the resistance. Namur, shat- 
tered by the cannon, was living its last hours. The 
retreat of the active troops was about to commence. 
A fresh order reached me, telling me to take my 
detachment of Artillery to Bois-de-Villers and to 
await instructions there. 

96 



The Retreat of Namur 97 

In the radiant brightness of that beautiful summer 
morning, whilst the shooting of the guns and the roar 
of the cannon was to be heard on all sides, I led my 
little troop in the direction of Entre-Sambre-et-Meuse. 
My men were silent and sorrowful. I saw the anguish 
in my own heart reflected on their faces. At Liege, 
after the most heroic defence, we had seen our men 
obliged to fall back before the foreigner. At Namur, 
it was to be a repetition of the same thing. There, 
as here, we had hoped and hoped, up to the last 
minute, that friendly reinforcements would arrive. 
It was different here though! From Liege, our 
retreat had been towards the centre of our own 
country, we were at home and we knew that we were 
going to join our comrades of the army in campaign. 
From Namur, alas, we should be moving towards the 
frontier, getting farther and farther away from our 
fellow-soldiers, from our friends, and from our families. 

After Liege, every man in our detachment had 
answered to the roll-call. On leaving Namur, we 
thought sorrowfully of those of our comrades who 
were sleeping for ever at the border of the Grandes- 
Salles Wood, or who were dying, in pain, in hospital 
beds. 

"Courage! though," I said to myself, "we must 
keep our hearts up. We must throw a veil over the 
past and look ahead. At any rate, I must save the 
brave men under my care. " 

The information I had with regard to the enemy 
was very vague. The Germans were said to be stopped 
at the Sambre, on one side, and repulsed in the Dinant 
neighbourhood, some distance from the Meuse, 
on the other. The truth, as we were soon to see, was 
quite different. At Bois-de-Villers, where I arrived 



98 Brave Belgians 

towards nine o'clock, I noted that there was intense 
firing in the direction of Sart-St. Laurent. There 
was no doubt possible. The Germans had forced 
the passages of the Sambre. 

I made a hasty reconnaissance in the direction of 
the valley of the Meuse. The inhabitants told me that 
the French had placed outposts as far as Profonde- 
ville, but that they had taken them away the evening 
before, and that enemy patrols were moving about 
on the right bank. 

It was, therefore, impossible to start with my 
column along the road from Profondeville to Dinant. 
This road, which skirts the river, is commanded, only 
a short distance away, by the heights of the right bank. 

There was only one thing to be done, and that 
was to return to Namur for instructions. 

At one o'clock in the afternoon, I was back again 
as far as the St. Heribert Fort. The Commander 
informed me that he no longer had telephonic com- 
munication with the Governor of the position. He 
could only give me all the information he had from 
private sources. The Germans had crossed the 
Sambre in great masses and were being held, at the 
present moment, between Fosse and St. Gerard, by a 
French army. The Meuse also had been forced by 
the enemy at Dinant. 

The situation was, therefore, most critical for the 
Namur garrison. It would probably be completely 
encircled and it only had one road left for retreat 
towards France. 

I decided to go to Ermeton-sur-Biert, through 
Arbre and Bioul, and await events there. 

We accordingly set off and, as I was mounting my 
horse, I gave one last look at the town. The sight was 



The Retreat of Namur 99 

both imposing and terrible. In Namur itself, many 
of the houses were burning. The Citadel seemed 
to have a halo round it, formed by the fleecy bursting 
of the shrapnels. Farther away, the villages of 
Champion, Bonnine, and Bouge were in flames. 
Muffled detonations, repeated by the echoes, rever- 
berated on every side. On all the roads from Namur 
and from Flawinne, could be seen the heads of the 
column of troops of the 4th Division, who were 
endeavouring to escape from the grasp of the enemy. 
Poor Namur! With heavy hearts, we then began 
that long retreat, which was to lead us, by Belgian 
and French roads, to the environs of Paris. I ar- 
rived at Ermeton-sur-Biert towards half past 
eight in the evening. I went a little further on 
than the village and fixed on an oat-field for our 
bivouac. An uninterrupted firing could be heard 
from a northerly direction. The march of the Ger- 
man troops was indicated, over half the horizon, by 
the villages and farms in flames. In a south-easterly 
direction, an immense glow, in strong contrast to the 
darkness of the night, revealed the incredible crime of 
Dinant. 

Whilst some of my gunners were dressing the 
wounds of half a dozen French soldiers whom we had 
picked up at Den£e, and the drivers were getting some 
oats for their tired horses, I remained at the road- 
side, anxiously questioning the dark figures who 
passed by in the night. The most contradictory 
rumours were circulating. According to some, the 
British troops had driven the Germans back, between 
Mons and Charleroi. According to others, on the 
contrary, we had already been turned by these same 
Germans. 



ioo Brave Belgians 

I had been at my observation post more than an 
hour, when some French batteries passed by at a quick 
trot. There was no doubt now; it was very evident 
that the French were retreating. Tired though we 
were, it was indispensable that we should follow the 
movement. We, therefore, set out once more. It 
took us three hours to go the five miles which 
separate Ermeton from Rosee, as the road was 
blocked by waggons, trucks, refugees' carts, and 
vehicles of all sorts. They were advancing with the 
greatest difficulty, three or four abreast. Numbers 
of refugees on foot, men, women, and children, from 
the neighbouring villages, had slipped in among 
the horses and vehicles, adding considerably to the 
confusion. The night was particularly dark, and this 
darkness was only relieved by the distant light of 
the flaming houses and, from time to time, by the 
bright flashes of the St. Heribert Fort search-lights, 
which seemed to be sending us a last farewell message. 
We reached Philippeville at four o'clock the follow- 
ing morning. During the night, my column had 
increased in numbers. Soldiers of all arms, who had 
lost their regiments, had joined us, feeling instinc- 
tively that they were lost if they had not an officer 
in command. 

The first person I met, on arriving at Philippeville, 
was Duruy, the French Battalion Chief, whom I had 
known before the war as Military Attache at Brus- 
sels. Three months later, he was killed in Flanders, 
whilst marching bravely at the head of a Colonial 
Regiment. 

I explained my situation to him quickly and asked 
for news of the battle. What he told me was by no 
means reassuring. The Allies had been crushed 



The Retreat of Namur 101 

by the invading stream and they were falling back, 
inch by inch. 

I soon received instructions from the French officer 
in command of the district. I was to collect all the 
Belgian troops now in Philippeville and take them to 
Rocroi. We were to be in Rocroi that same day. 

Twenty-two miles to march with troops which had 
been marching already for twenty-four hours! The 
order was definite, though, and I felt myself that it 
was necessary. Once more we set out. 

Before leaving, I went and shook hands silently 
with my brave comrade, Hankar. Only the day be- 
fore he was a lively Sub-Lieutenant from the Mili- 
tary School, and now he was lying in a motor-ambu- 
lance, with his foot smashed by a shell. I could do 
absolutely nothing for him. What a terrible thing 
war is ! 

I also took the wounded French soldiers we had 
brought from Denee to an ambulance. 

I will not describe the Calvary of that long march 
and !the sufferings of my exhausted soldiers. It was 
eight o'clock at night when we reached Rocroi, and 
the men were then able to take their first meal that 
day. 

We had to think of the horses, too, and to get 
some oats for them. I plead guilty to having acted 
in a manner that was incorrect, but I hope I may be 
forgiven for it under the circumstances. At that 
late hour, the forage stores were closed, and the man 
in charge did not consider himself obliged to supply me 
until the next day. 

Necessity knows no law. In accordance with this 
precept, somewhat lax, but indispensable in time of 
war, I ordered my men to break open the door and 



102 Brave Belgians 

take, manu militari, the oats necessary. I left a 
receipt, quite honestly, for what I had taken. 

I spent the night, with my men, in the big Square 
of the town, but I could not close my eyes. Too 
many thoughts crowded to my mind, for, from what I 
had heard and seen on the way, I was convinced that 
the Germans would soon be at Rocroi and that we 
should have to move on southwards. 

Where were we to go though? How were we to 
rejoin the Belgian army, when we did not know where 
it was? I had not even a map of the district. 

As soon as it was daylight, my first idea was to try 
to get a map, but how was I to find it in a town that 
was asleep? I knocked at several doors, but there 
was not a map to be had. Presently, I met a young 
cyclist who had a road-map of Northern France. I 
am about to confess my second indelicate act. I said 
to the young cyclist : 

"How much did you give for your map?" 

"Three francs, " he replied. 

"I will give you five francs for it. " 

"I won't sell it," he answered, "as I cannot get 
another one. " 

"I will give you ten francs, " I insisted. 

"No," he replied. 

"Then I shall have to take it," I said and, before 
the cyclist had time to recover from his surprise, I 
took his precious map and made off like the thief I 
was. 

After examining various projects, I decided on 
going to Rethel. There was an important junction of 
railways and roads there. I could communicate by 
wire with our Military Attache* of Paris and receive 
instructions. 



The Retreat of Namur 103 

We set out once again, but our march was slow, as 
my detachment was composed of soldiers of all arms, 
most of whom were on foot. 

The problem of food for my men was causing me 
serious anxiety, when, a few miles from Rocroi, I 
came across a column with food, stationed in a little 
village. A sub-officer, whom I had sent on recon- 
naissance, came back telling me that the officer in 
command of this column had given orders that no 
food was to be given to Belgian troops, except in case of 
a requisition written by the General commanding the 
4th Belgian Division. 

I have already confessed to breaking into forage 
stores and to theft. I must now confess to an abuse 
of confidence. I signed an order for food with my 
own name, preceded by the following words: "By 
order of the General commanding the 4th Belgian 
Division." 

I had no right to do this, if I am to be quite frank. 
I obtained the food though and, as will be seen later 
on, Lieutenant General Michel himself reaped some 
advantage from my indelicacy. 

The scene took place at Liart, where we arrived the 
second day after this incident. 

Taught by experience, I always arranged for our 
bivouac to be near places where food columns were 
quartered. I sent a subordinate at once to establish 
a liaison between this column and mine. 

One night when we were quartered near Liart, my 
liaison agent, when sending my food, let me know that 
a goods train was to return empty to Rheims, the 
following day. He had made arrangements with 
the military Commander at the station for me to make 
use of this transport. 



104 Brave Belgians 

Glad to spare my men fatigue, and to gain time, I 
accepted the offer. I did not wait for daylight, but 
set out at once for Liart. 

A surprise was in store for us. Lieut enant-General 
Michel was there, at the head of his Division. There 
was no question now of our making use of the train, as 
it was, of course, to be reserved for the troops on foot. 
The mounted soldiers were to go to Laon by the ordin- 
ary way. A column was formed under the orders of 
Colonel Iweins. 

Whilst the men were eating, I remembered that I 
had some beefsteak in reserve. General Michel, who 
was passing near, honoured me by coming to our table 
and sharing our meal. 

Do you remember this, General? I did not own 
then that it was, in reality, you inviting me, as I had 
obtained that meat, thanks to "an order" from you. 

It took us two days to reach Laon and nothing 
occurred to interfere with us on our way. 

One thing surprised us, though. We did not meet 
any French troops. We met columns with food, with 
ammunition, and various carts with accessories, but 
absolutely no fighting troops. 

Our surprise increased when we had passed Laon. 
Neither at Soissons, Chateau-Thierry, Coulommiers, 
nor anywhere else, along that long road which led 
to the south-east of Paris, did we meet either Infan- 
try, Artillery, or Cavalry. We began to wonder where 
the French army was, or whether a French army 
existed? 

It was not until a few days later, after the victory of 
the Marne, that we understood General Joffre's 
wonderful manoeuvre. We will not anticipate, 
though, so we must return to Laon. 



The Retreat of Namur 105 

We stayed there two days and we took advantage of 
this time for reorganising our column. 

The cannons and waggons of the old pattern were 
packed and sent to the south of France; the horses 
were divided among the existing units, and all the men 
we did not need were sent to Rouen. In this way, 
we formed a column of Cavalry, Artillery, Gendar- 
merie, and accessory services. 

I was no longer in command, but, as there was a 
question of taking part in the operations of the French 
army, I did not like the idea of being sent to a depot. 

I asked for a place now vacant as Deputy Com- 
mander of a group and I was fortunate enough to 
obtain it. 

We left Laon rather suddenly and went in the 
direction of Soissons. In my new function, I had to 
form the vanguard. With a few others, I would arrive 
unexpectedly in the villages, where our foreign uni- 
forms generally created alarm, as we were taken for 
German patrols. 

In order to avoid mistakes, I used to send a horse- 
man on in front to announce the arrival of friends. 

The astrakhan talpack that I wore surprised the in- 
habitants of the villages and I overheard the following 
conversation : 

"You see the one with a fur cap. He is an officer 
of the Russian vanguard." Another person probably 
better informed, with regard to distances, replied: 

"Impossible, the Russians could not be here yet." 

It is only fair to say that all the papers then were 
announcing, in big letters, formidable advances of the 
Russian army. 

The day after leaving Laon, we arrived at Sermoise- 
sur-Aisne. An English patrol was there, under the 



io6 Brave Belgians 

command of an officer, who told us that German 
forces had been signalled to the north of the Aisne. 

Colonel Iweins, who had already had this informa- 
tion, told the English officer that some squadrons 
had been sent to reconnoitre and that news was 
awaited before authorising a bivouac there. He 
added that he would send an officer with the informa- 
tion he received to the English General then at Sois- 
sons. As I acted as interpreter and arrived with the 
vanguard, Colonel Iweins entrusted me with this 
mission. 

He told me, too, that the detachment that he 
commanded was to start the following day by rail 
from Soissons. I was entrusted with the reconnais- 
sance of the station and was to wait there for his 
arrival. 

The squadrons soon returned without having any- 
thing special to report. The bivouac was therefore 
organised and I started. I was delighted at having 
this mission as, when I had accomplished it, I should 
be able to dine on something else than rabbit, which 
had been our food for several days, and I should also 
have a good hotel bed instead of sleeping on straw 
at the bivouac. 

I was accompanied only by my orderly and, with 
a light heart, smoking a cigarette, I arrived in Sois- 
sons after an enjoyable ride. It was just getting 
dark. There was not a person in the street, and a 
death-like silence prevailed. I wondered what this 
meant ? 

Finally, I met an English cycling platoon. The 
officer in command informed me that the Germans 
were at the gates of the town, on the other side of the 
Aisne. 



The Retreat of Namur 107 

"Surely, " I said, "there must be some mistake, as 
there is an English General at Soissons." 

"We beat a retreat in a south-westerly direction," 
replied the officer, "and we form the extreme left 
rear." 

I went at once to the station and found that all the 
rolling stock had been removed. After some time, I 
found one of the station officials. 

"Have you been informed that some Belgian troops 
are coming to Soissons to-morrow to take the train? " I 
asked. "To-morrow!" exclaimed the man, in amaze- 
ment. "Why, the Boches are there, on the other 
side of the river. The station has been evacuated 
and . . ." 

I did not stay to hear the end of his sentence, but 
rushed off to the Prefecture of police, where I was 
assured that the German vanguards were quite near 
the town. 

"But surely there must be some military authority 
here in Soissons!" I said. 

"Perhaps you may find the Commander of arms. 
He lives at the house with the stone steps, in the first 
street to the left." 

I went there and found him. 

"Colonel," I said, "I have just come from Sermoise 
and have a communication for an English General 
whom I expected to find here. I am also to make 
arrangements for some Belgian troops to take the 
train from here to-morrow." 

"But, are you not aware that the Germans may 
enter the town from one minute to another? " he asked. 
"I have given orders for the bridges to be blown 
up as soon as they are in sight, and immediately 
after that I am starting for Rheims. The English 



io8 Brave Belgians 

Headquarters have been transferred, to-day, about 
ten miles away. I should advise you to take your 
communication there and to stay there yourself. 
The road is not safe. ..." 

At that very moment, I heard some loud explosions. 
The Aisne bridges had been blown up. 

"Au revoir," said the Colonel, getting into his 
motor-car, "and good luck!" 

I remained there a moment half dazed. The 
communication I had was worthless, and dangerous 
too, as it gave wrong information. 

The only thing that remained was to ride, at full 
speed, back to Sermoise and warn my chief there of 
the danger that threatened us. 

An hour later, I arrived there breathless. Colonel 
Iweins was dictating his instructions for the journey 
of the following day. I informed him immediately of 
what I had learnt at Soissons. 

The bivouac was at once broken up and Major 
Joostens set out in his motor-car to get instructions 
from the French Headquarters. He returned soon 
after with orders to start immediately for Chateau- 
Thierry. 

The main road from Sermoise to Chateau-Thierry 
passes through Soissons. There is another way, but 
it is not practicable for artillery, and it would have 
caused us delay at a time when every moment was 
precious. 

Colonel Iweins decided to send his horsemen to 
guard the passages of the Aisne. During that time 
the batteries and the vehicles with the accessories 
were to gallop through Soissons. The squadrons 
were to fall back and they would thus be able to 
protect the retreat. 



The Retreat of Namur 109 

This plan was carried out and only just in time. 
The gendarmerie waggon, which was a little behind, 
was attacked and captured by the Germans. 

On the Chateau-Thierry road, I saw once more the 
same scenes of desolation that I had already witnessed 
in Belgium: I mean the exodus of the population. 
Crowds of people and of animals, all hurrying along 
and knocking against each other; vehicles colliding 
with each other and barring the road, as the drivers, 
in their mad hurry to escape, blocked the way and 
increased the confusion. The most heart-rending 
of all the miseries of war are those which afflict the 
weak and unoffending. 

On this long journey, I came across Belgian families 
from Hainault, who had been driven out of their 
peaceful villages by the barbarians, and had been 
wandering for weeks. Wherever they had found 
a temporary refuge, they had been once more hunted 
out, and they were now going along, resigned to their 
fate, towards the unknown. When would the hour of 
deliverance ring out for them and for all of us? 

We stopped a night at Chateau-Thierry, and the 
following day our column was divided; one detach- 
ment went in the direction of Coulommiers and the 
other in the direction of La Ferte-Gaucher. 

I was with the latter detachment, under the com- 
mand of Major Capilion, and, as usual, I was responsi- 
ble for the vanguard. The batteries arrived at our 
halting-place rather late, and it was dark when the 
installation was finished. 

I was very tired, and was just going to rest for a 
time, when I was informed that the two detachments 
were to start for Havre, by rail, the following day. 
Further orders were to be given us later on. 



no Brave Belgians 

When everyone was lying down, before going to 
rest myself, I decided to go as far as the station. It 
was as though I had a presentiment, for, on arriving 
there, at ten o'clock exactly, I found the station- 
master at the telephone. What I heard startled me. 
The Germans were at Chateau-Thierry. We had 
left there in the morning and they had arrived in the 
afternoon. They had bombarded the station, left 
the town, and were on the way towards Coulommiers 
and La Fert£-Gaucher. 

I rushed to the telephone and asked for communica- 
tion with Coulommiers. I told them to fetch an 
officer. Major Joostens was soon there. 

"Do you know that Chateau-Thierry has been 
occupied to-day by the Germans, and that they have 
now left the town?" I said. 

"What are you telling me?" he replied. "It is 
impossible. We have come fifty miles from Soissons 
and an army cannot go along at that rate." 

"It is a fact nevertheless. Make enquiries at once, 
as we run the risk of being taken." 

"Wait there, I will telephone to you as soon as 
I get any information." 

A quarter of an hour later, Major Joostens con- 
firmed what I had told him and informed me that 
he was having trains sent immediately to La Ferte- 
Gaucher. He told me to give the alarm and to 
commence embarking the troops during the night. 

Never, I imagine, has any man alone, made as much 
noise in the night as I did that night at La Ferte- 
Gaucher. Thinking that we were far enough away 
from the enemy, our lodgings were separated from 
each other, from one end of the town to the other. For 
the first time for a month, each man had a bed. It 



The Retreat of Namur in 

can readily be imagined that it was no easy task to 
wake everyone up. 

At half-past twelve, the first battery arrived at the 
station, and the embarking of the troops commenced 
immediately. On account of various faulty installa- 
tions, it took a considerable amount of time. At 
mid-day, our scouts informed us of the approach 
of the Germans. We were prepared to evacuate by 
road what we could not send by rail, but fortunately 
this was not necessary, as the enemy halted a few 
miles away from La Fert£-Gaucher. 

The command of the last contingent was given to 
me. At four o'clock, all the waggons were on the 
trucks. I then embarked the Gendarmerie Platoon, 
which served as my support, and the train started. 

It was an immense relief to me when we were once 
on the way, as we then knew that we should be able to 
join the Belgian army, and do our share towards 
defending our country. 

Coulommiers and La Ferte-Gaucher were, as every- 
one knows, the extreme points reached on French soil 
by the German invasion. 

From Havre, we went by boat to Zeebrugge and 
from Zeebrugge to Antwerp by rail. We found 
our Infantry Regiments there, as they had preceded 
us. The 4th Division was re-formed and it contributed 
gloriously, later on, to the defence of Antwerp and the 
Yser. 

I dedicate these pages to the soldiers who were 
under me during this period of the war. They were 
composed of men of the oldest classes (the 14th and 
15th) and of young volunteers. All of them behaved 
with the greatest courage. 

Several weeks after the events I have just related, 



ii2 Brave Belgians 

when I was no longer the direct chief of these brave 
soldiers, I received from them the following letter, 
which moved me to tears. It is a letter which I shall 
ever keep as my most treasured recompense: 

"Vieux Dieu (Fort 4), 
"21.9. 14. 

"To our Commander Paulis: 

"The sub-officers of your old group beg you to 
accept, in their name and in the name of all the 
Brigadiers and Privates who have been under your 
orders, their respectful homage and the assurance of 
their sincerest feelings of gratitude, in remembrance 
of the way you led them under fire, and saved .them 
during the retreats from Liege and Namur. 

"Rest assured, Commander, that you will never, 
never be forgotten by us, and that your name will 
ever be included in our ardent wishes for the welfare 
of our King, our Country and our families." 

[Here follow the signatures.] 
"Pervyse, October 15, 1915." 



CHAPTER XII 
Death of Corporal Tresignies 

From the Account Given by First Sergeant-Major of 

the 2nd Regiment of Unmounted Chasseurs 

On the 20th of August, the Belgian army, supported by the 
line of the Antwerp Forts, took position on the Rupel and the 
Nethe. In front of it, the 3rd and 9th German Corps were 
quartered. On learning that violent fighting was going on on the 
Sambre and in the direction of Mons, a sortie was decided upon for 
the 25th and 26th of August. The 6th Division took Hofstade 
and the Schiplaeken Woods. The 1st and 5th Divisions took 
Sempst, Weerde, and Eppeghem ; but, on the left wing, the 2nd 
Division could not gain the left bank of the Louvain canal and, in 
the centre, the 6th Division could not occupy Elewyt. The 
army, therefore, returned to the retrenched camp. 

On the 26th of August, 1914, towards nine in the 
morning, a platoon of the 2nd Unmounted Chasseurs, 

under the command of First Sergeant-Major 

occupied a trench, constructed by the Germans, at 
Pont-Brule, on the south bank of the Willebroeck 
Canal. A continual rain of balls from the enemy's 
lines soon made the position impossible, even for 
our men who were firing as they lay on the ground. 
There was no retreat possible. It was necessary, there- 
fore, at all costs, to cross the canal. There was a 
bridge only a few yards away, but its platform was 
8 113 



ii4 Brave Belgians 

raised and the crank of the windlass was on the 
opposite bank. 

The Sergeant attempted to construct a raft, but 
this was almost impossible, as the necessary material 
was lacking and the enemy's firing was too frequent 
and violent. He was compelled to give up this idea. 

"A good swimmer who will volunteer to cross the 
canal!" he cried out. 

"Present!" replied Private Tresignies, getting up 
from the ground. 

"It is to go and lower the bridge, my boy." 

"Right, Sergeant." 

Quite tranquilly, Tresignies wrote on a slip of paper 
the following words for his wife: "Adieu, it is for the 
King." He handed the message to his officer, slipped 
off his clothes, and sprang into the water. 

Whilst he was swimming, the Sergeant called out to 
him: "Tresignies, in the name of the Colonel, I 
appoint you Corporal." 

Tresignies smiled in answer to the words, crossed 
the canal, reached the other bank, climbed on to the 
abutment of the bridge, and seized the crank. He 
first turned it the wrong way, raising the bridge still 
higher, but, on seeing his mistake, he turned it the 
opposite way. The bridge slowly descended. The 
man's tall figure stood out against the horizon, looking 
like an antique statue. The firing from all sides was 
now aimed at him. His thighs and his arms were 
hit. The blood spurted from his wounds and ran 
down his body. He continued turning, as though 
nothing had happened, determined to accomplish his 
work of deliverance. He went on turning and turning 
until his heart was pierced and he fell down on the 
blue stone. After a few nervous twitches, his body re- 



Death of Corporal Tr£signies 115 

mained still and lifeless, the head hanging down. . . . 

In remembrance of this hero, the Municipal Council 
of Antwerp decided that one of the streets of the 
capital should be named after Corporal Tresignies, 
and that a subscription should be opened for the 
benefit of his widow and two children. 



CHAPTER XIII 

The First Attack of the Retrenched Camp 
L of Antwerp 

(September 4, 19 14) 

By Father Henusse, S. J., Army Chaplain to the 84TH 
Artillery Battery 

On that day, the Staff of the 5th Division had 
decided on an offensive reconnaissance, starting from 
Willebroeck and going towards Lippeloo. Towards 7 
in the morning, we heard that the Germans had arrived 
in force at Breendonck. Commandant C trans- 
mitted this information to the Staff, who, no doubt, 
gave orders to the Cavalry to verify the information, 
as the hour fixed for our departure passed, and we were 
still there for a long time afterwards. The foot- 
soldiers were yawning behind their piled arms and the 
gunners were strolling about near the cannons. 

Towards 10 o'clock, the order finally arrived for us 
to start, but the itinerary was modified. We were to 
go by way of Sauvegarde and Pullaer, instead of 
leaving Willebroeck along the network of barbed 
wire. 

The column set out. The 16th Brigade of mixed 
forces advanced along the narrow road which is the 

116 



First Attack on Retrenched Camp 117 

ordinary way to the line of forts. Towards 12.30, 
it was preparing to take up a position, when suddenly, 
four detonations were heard and four shrapnels 
exploded in front of the Artillery, just near the Com- 
mander of the group, who saw his cyclist hit, his men 
wounded, and horses either fall or take fright. 

The astonishment was so great, that a slight confu- 
sion ensued. An explanation was almost as quickly 
obtained. The enemy was making a sudden attack on 
the double interval, Breendonck-Letterheide-Liezele, 
An order was immediately given to the Artillery to 
occupy the positions organised for the defence of the 
said intervals. The 84th Battery had its Sector 
limited by the canal of Willebroeck and Breendonck, 
the 83rd the Sector comprised between Breendonck 
and Letterheide-Liezele, and the 82nd the Sector 
Letterheide-Liezele. 

"Wheel round!" was the command given and, on 
the narrow road, the wheel round took place in perfect 
order. 

Whilst the batteries were going to their positions, 
the Commanders went just as quickly to their observa- 
tion posts. That of the Commander of the 83rd was 
an extraordinary post. Between two poplars, a 
platform, eight yards high, had been made, protected 
by a shield. It was reached by a huge ladder and 
was big and strong, as was necessary for the man who 
was to use it. When he reached it, the balls were 
already whizzing from all sides and the huge shrapnels 
were bursting above the Forts. It was evident that 
the Germans had begun the attack with their masses, 
without waiting for the preliminary artillery prepara- 
tion. 

The Commander climbed quickly on to his perch 



n8 Brave Belgians 

and began scrutinising the horizon with his field- 
glasses. In the direction of Breendonck, the firing 
range had been cleared for about eight hundred yards 
in advance of the line of Forts. All the houses but 
one had been destroyed. Farther away, in the 
background, there were isolated farms, the roads 
leading to the village, mills, and clusters of trees ; in the 
foreground, immense fields of asparagus a yard high. 

Suddenly, a movement was to be seen on the road 
leading from the village. An enemy column was 
advancing there. It broke up into little groups, in 
order to reach sheltered places. This was just the 
moment to seize the telephone and order a quick 
fire from the battery 1700 yards in the rear. Un- 
fortunately, the telephone had been taken off on 
account of the reconnaissance that morning, and 
torture now began for the unfortunate Commander. 

To have a mass of several thousand men in front of 
him and, there, behind him, the four fire-spitters which 
could sow death and carnage among that mass, and 
not be able to make a sign to them, not be 
able to transmit the order! Tantalus had nothing 
like this to endure! The Commander's eyes were 
fixed first on the advancing enemy, and then on the 
plain where the telephonists ought to be unrolling the 
wire, the precious wire. ... He could see nothing 
but the green grass and the sunshine. . . . 

Finally, he could stand it no longer and he clam- 
bered down from his observatory, saluted by a volley 
of balls, which only did harm to the poplar branches. 
He rushed to his horse, which was hidden in the little 
wood at the back and rode at full speed in the direction 
of the telephonists. As soon as they appeared, he 
gave his orders in feverish haste and returned, at the 



First Attack on Retrenched Camp 119 

same rapid pace, to his observatory. The question 
now was would he reach the top of the ladder or not? 
The balls came whizzing along, hitting the steps of the 
huge ladder. One, two, three, and he sprang on to it 
and began to mount. With a thrill of anguish, he 
continued his way until, at last, he was once more 
at his post. This time, though, he flung himself 
down full length on his platform to look through his 
field-giasses at the horizon. The changes he now saw 
were that the enemy columns were advancing, in 
close rank, behind the isolated farms and behind the 
mills. In the foreground, sharp-shooters were gliding 
and crawling towards the asparagus fields. Hundreds 
of men were already hidden there. He felt sure of 
that. 

The Commander was furious. He remembered 
a certain shooting-party, when he had had a magnifi- 
cent animal within his range and it had made straight 
for his neighbour's vicinity, thus preventing him 
from shooting , for fear of hitting his fellow huntsman. 

It was certainly his fate to play the part of Tantalus. 
He wondered why the telephonists did not arrive, and 
whether the poor wretches had been shot down? 
Finally, he caught sight of them crossing the railroad, 
five hundred yards away. He hoped they would 
stoop down, and crawl if necessary, for the balls were 
whizzing along all the time. In the meantime, the 
Commander took his measures, noted the distances 
on the map, and revelled in advance at the thought of 
massacring the most odious enemies that ever existed, 
and cutting short their triumph in this sudden attack, 
which they fancied they were carrying out so well. 
The minutes seemed endlessly long; his blood was 
boiling and beating in his heart and brain. . . . 



120 Brave Belgians 

Finally, the telephonists were at the foot of the 
ladder, the communication was once more set up and 
the first command sent like lightning. A few seconds 
passed, and the reply was there. Four rapid shrapnels 
burst above the asparagus, just at the right height, 
and now, quick, quick, and rapid firing ! 

The storm continued pouring down on the fields 
where the Boches were crouching and, through his 
field-glasses, the Commander could see hideous things 
flying in the air: arms, legs, and helmeted heads. 
At the same time as his orders, the telephone com- 
municated to the battery the result of the firing, and 
the gunners imagined that they saw with their eyes 
the magnificent work of death. This excited them 
and, in glee, they continued their work with enthusiasm 
and speed. 

After the asparagus fields, they attacked the farms. 
The shells fell there like thunderbolts and fires broke 
out everywhere. In spite of all this, the balls con- 
tinued to whizz round the observatory. It was very 
evident that there were some men hidden who were 
shooting desperately. The Commander searched 
everywhere and concluded that they were in the one 
house still standing, the one house that the engineers 
had not destroyed. It was situated on the road from 
Breendonck to Lippeloo and within the last two hours 
it had been suddenly loopholed. What was to be done? 
It was too small a building to constitute an objective 
for indirect aim, and consequently it would have been 
useless to inform the battery. The Breendonck 
Fort, though, could knock it down directly. 

It was the telephonist who thought of this and 
suggested his idea to the Commander, who had been 
obliged to come down once more from his perch, as it 



First Attack on Retrenched Camp 121 

was impossible to remain there. The idea was good, 
but the question was how to communicate with the 
Fort? It was more than eight hundred yards away, 
and there was almost entirely open ground between 
them. The telephonist started off on his own account 
and, less than ten minutes later, the Fort opened fire 
on the house. With the third shell, it was naming 
like a huge torch, after which it fell, sending an 
immense bouquet of sparks up into the air. . . . The 
Commander once more went back to his observation 
post, but the fete was over. 

The roads were deserted; the asparagus plants on 
which he turned his glasses were quite still ; the farms 
were smoking and the rumbling of the cannon could 
only be heard dying away in the distance. Over 
yonder, beyond the village of Breendonck, the dis- 
orderly retreat of the Boches could be imagined, 
saving their cannons, dragging along their wounded, 
and hastening to hide their disgrace. 

After that our reconnaissances and our ambulances 
came out, and the sad and glorious balance sheet of 
the day's work was gradually made out. 

The next day we found that, in the asparagus fields, 
1 100 German identification plaques had been gathered. 

The Commander, whom everyone was congratulat- 
ing, grasped the hands of the two soldier-telephonists 
and said to them: "And all this, thanks to you, my 
brave fellows!" 



CHAPTER XIV 
The Re-Taking of Aerschot 

By Sub-Lieutenant Ch. Dendale of the 7th Line Regiment 

On the 7th and 8th of September, the diminution of the forces 
besieging Antwerp was known at Headquarters and a sortie, 
with all the troops of the fighting army, was decided upon, either 
to inflict a defeat on the enemy, or to oblige the Germans to 
bring back, towards Antwerp, some of the forces now on the way 
to France. The sortie commenced on the 9th of September and 
began favourably. 

On the 9th, the passages of the D£mer and of the Dyle were 
conquered and Aerschot was taken. On the 10th, a platoon of the 
2nd Mounted Chasseurs entered Louvain, but the 2nd Division 
was stopped at Wygmael and at Putkapel. The enemy brought 
back the 6th Division of Reservists who were then marching to 
France. On the nth, the 3rd Division succeeded in an offensive 
on Over de Vaart and the 6th Division reached the railway from 
Malines to Louvain. On the 12th, it was the enemy's turn to 
take the offensive and drive back the 2nd Division at Rotselaer 
and Wesemael. This retreat drew with it the 6th Division and 
then the 3rd Division, and on the 13th the army fell back towards 
the retrenched camp. The chief object was nevertheless at- 
tained. The adversary had been obliged, not only to bring back 
to the Belgian front the 6th Division of the 3rd Corps, but also to 
delay the march of the 9th Corps towards France for two days, 
at the precise moment when the German armies, in effecting their 
retreat on the Marne, had the most urgent need of reinforcements. 

This is not an account of a particularly glorious feat 
of arms, but merely a statement of impressions during 



The Re-Taking of Aerschot 123 

a combat which, although it was less murderous than 
any other in which I took part, left the most vivid 
impression on my mind. 

During the second sortie from Antwerp, the 27th 
Regiment, which landed at Heyst-op-d en-Berg during 
the night of the 8th and 9th of September, received as 
its first objective: Aerschot. All along our road we 
could see the ruins of the dwellings which had been 
destroyed by fire by the Germans. These ruins stood 
out clearly and lamentably against the blue sky. 
From the debris, which were still smoking, a special, 
bitter odour emanated, which choked and suffocated 
us, giving us an indescribable sensation. We did not 
dare stir the ashes, for fear of exposing to view the 
calcinated remains of the martyrs who had been 
burned, with all they possessed, on the bit of land 
where they had been born, and where they had grown 
up, struggled, suffered, and where, with visions of 
horror before their eyes, they had died. 

We approached the town and the Boches had not 
yet shown any signs of life. Suddenly, my attention 
was drawn to a forage cap, the red band of which 
stood out in contrast against the green of the 
meadow. I rushed forward and then stood still, deeply 
moved. The cap was attached to a little cross, made of 
branches, planted on a small mound. This first vision 
of the anonymous grave of a brave man, who had died 
for the sake of his country, gave me a pang at my 
heart. Alas, how many such tombs I have seen since 
then ! I stood there thinking, and my thoughts went 
from the hero, who had fallen in the midst of life 
and light, to the poor old parents who were trembling 
for their son, to the poor parents who would never 
know where their lad had been buried. 



124 Brave Belgians 

We entered the town after the vanguard, which did 
not meet with any serious resistance. There were no 
longer ruins just here and there, but heaps and heaps 
of them everywhere. Nothing had escaped the 
destructive rage of the invader. Everything which 
had not been consumed by the flames had been sac- 
caged. The shop windows had been cleared, furniture 
destroyed, glasses smashed, clothes thrown about in 
lamentable heaps. It must have taken whole days 
to destroy all these things, with kicks of heavy boots 
and with the butt end of guns. And what amazed 
us was the number of empty bottles strewing the 
ground. There must have been "colossal" drinking 
bouts. Perhaps the soldiers, in order to carry out 
their cruel task, had lacked courage. Perhaps at the 
bottom of their hearts, some sentiments of honour 
and of probity had been stirred, and they had had to 
stifle all this by drinking until they had lost their 
reason. 

Gradually, a little curiosity mingled with our 
emotion. Silently, and with heavy hearts, we visited 
these ruins, exhaustless and glorious relics of patriotic 
love and virtue. Everything here, from the tombs 
down to the very stones, proved that Belgians prefer 
death to cowardly submission, prefer to suffer rather 
than to betray their word of honour. An atmosphere 
of august sacrifice sanctified this spot. 

Suddenly, I uttered a cry. Over yonder, on the 
front of a convent, a big German flag was floating 
insolently in the wind. I rushed forward, but the 
soldiers had already preceded me, and the Colonel 
stamped on the accursed emblem. Our eyes shone 
with joy and hope. This sight was a symbol to us. 
We saw in it German power laid low, Right triumphant, 



The Re-Taking of Aerschot 125 

Belgium delivered, and we were filled with absolute 
confidence. . . . 

Pifi ! paff ! There was fighting going on over yonder 
and these detonations exasperated us. We rushed 
forward spontaneously in a wild, disorderly chase, 
crying out : ' ' Long live the King ! " 

The Boches occupied the heights at the other side 
of the town. They greeted our vanguard with a 
violent firing, but fortunately it was badly aimed. 
Our Battalion rushed to the rescue. Just as we were 
turning the corner of a street and entering the zone 
swept by the firing, the first ranks hesitated for an 
instant. Then, and never shall I forget that sight, 
the standard-bearer rushed forward, holding our flag 
high with its three colours unfurled. 

Electrified, the men rushed like a whirlwind, the 
clarions sounded the assault, and a confused clamour 
rang out: "Hurrah, Hurrah for Belgium!" The 
irresistible stream of our troopers gained the heights. 
The men were mad with fury, for the sight of the 
German atrocities had exasperated them. They 
hurried on, their hearts overflowing with rage. 

1 ' No prisoners ! No quarter ! Death to the bandits ! ' ' 

Curses rang out on all sides. The men's faces were 
hard, savage, pitiless. 

"They shall be cared for, their wounded!" I heard 
someone say. 

I turned round and saw our doctor. The expression 
of his eyes scared me. A veritable flame of hatred 
had been lighted in all hearts. 

"Yes, we are ready for anything. No pity! No 
conventions. So much the worse for them. They 
have brought it on themselves! It is their punish- 
ment!" 



126 Brave Belgians 

An immense joy took possession of us and transported 
us, the joy of the idea of snatching from the invader a 
shred of our national territory. 

A pitiful troop of German prisoners was halting on 
the road. The sun was scorching. Our men, stream- 
ing with perspiration, grouped themselves round them, 
looking at them curiously. What did I now see, 
though? Was it possible? The same soldiers who 
had been intoxicated with the madness of carnage, 
with vengeance and hate, were now looking after these 
captives. One offered them cigarettes, another 
one coffee from his flask. Our "ferocious" doctor 
was busy lavishing his care on them, and dressing 
their wounds down to the very least scratch. 

Suddenly calm again, on seeing the suffering of 
others, we were once more kind-hearted, simple 
Belgians, hospitable and compassionate, according to 
the traditions of our race. Moved by pity, we were 
doing our best to relieve the sufferings of our wounded 
enemies. I looked on at this poignant scene thought- 
fully, and I was seized with deep emotion. My eyes 
were dim with tears and my heart swelled with joy, 
with unutterable pride, the joy and the pride of being 
a Belgian. 

Hotel Dieu, Albert I. Hospital. 9. 11. 15. 



CHAPTER XV 
A Fine Capture 

By Staff Deputy Captain Courboin 

September 9, 1914- Aerschot, devastated and 
pillaged by the Germans, was retaken by Belgian 
troops composed of the Cavalry Division and the 7th 
Brigade. Surprised by the rapid action of our men, the 
enemy occupants made off, like a band of sparrows, in 
the direction of Louvain. To the south of the town, 
though, some detachments, probably unaware of the 
direction of the retreat, were still holding out. Our 
troops had gathered together on the heights towards 
Nieuw-Rhode and were awaiting orders. I had left 
my unit and was walking along at the border of the 
St. Hertoger Heyde Bosch, when a soldier of the 27th 
Line Regiment told me that, according to a patrol, 
a horseman of the 2nd Guides was lying wounded on 
the road running through the forest. 

I asked for a gun and some cartridges and proposed 
to an army chaplain that he should accompany me. 
Twenty soldiers at once volunteered their services 
and I had the greatest difficulty in limiting my escort 
to a Corporal and six men. 

Ten minutes later, the horseman, who was un- 
fortunately dead, was brought into our lines. My 
men had to encounter a violent firing, which came 
from the border of the wood to the south, proving 

127 



128 Brave Belgians 

that there was at least one enemy company there. 
The horrors they had seen at Aerschot had roused the 
anger of our men, and they beseeched me to return 
to the forest with a force and avenge our unfortunate 
compatriots. I could not possibly have yielded to 
their entreaties, if an unforeseen circumstance had 
not more or less justified our escapade. An auto- 
machine-gun of the ist Division of Cavalry, which 
was to reconnoitre in the direction of Nieuw-Rhode 
asked for an escort of scouts. I offered the help of 
our little troop and, a few minutes later, we were once 
more exploring the St. Hertoger Heyde. The woods 
appeared to be deserted, but, on arriving near the 
southern border, an intense firing, from the Nieuw- 
Rhode summit, greeted us. Our machine-guns 
replied with interest, whilst my men searched the 
houses skirting the road, one after another, and, 
hiding behind the hedges, were ready to take aim at 
any German heads which, in a moment of imprudence, 
should be outlined against the deep blue of the 
horizon. 

We bounded on until we were within a hundred 
yards from the summit. The enemy firing had 
ceased and we now saw about fifteen wounded men 
sheltering in a ditch and imploring our aid. We 
wondered whether this could be a trap for us? It was 
too late, though, for prudence. We had risked coming 
two miles into the enemy's lines and my men were 
there, quivering with impatience. It was no use 
hesitating. Four houses stood in the corners of the 
cross-roads here, and these were probably sheltering 
the wounded and those who were trying to escape. 
There was no window looking out on to the place 
where we stood; the gardens appeared to be empty; 



A Fine Capture 129 

one more rush and we should be able to see what was 
going on beyond the summit. When once we were 
at the top, I had no time to deliberate. A horseman, 
who, I must own, appeared to have lost control of his 
mount, galloped towards me at full speed. I shoul- 
dered my gun and . . . the Boche bit the dust. The 
terrified horse leaped about in the fields ; my men took 
aim and the machine-gun seemed to start firing on its 
own accord. That moment of over-excitement saved us. 

The enemy thought we were there in strong force. 
A gun, covered with a white handkerchief, appeared at a 
skylight window. They were surrendering. I placed my- 
self against the wall of the house, so that I might escape 
any treacherous firing from the window in the roof. 

" Throw the guns out ! " I shouted. A gun fell on the 
ground at our feet, then another and another. My 
men were wild with delight. 

"Twenty . . . fifty ... a hundred, " they counted. 
When the hundred and sixth gun fell to the ground, 
there was a lull and a German sub-officer then, 
came out to make terms with us. In very good 
French, he asked that the lives of the Lieutenant, 
five sub-officers, and one hundred and six men, con- 
cealed in the house, might be spared. 

Two minutes later, a little troop of men arrayed in 
iron-grey and blue, were standing in line on the road. 
A very Prussian little Lieutenant handed me his pistol, 
which joined the guns piled up in the ditch. My men 
did not seem to be at all aware of the strangeness, 
which was really somewhat alarming, of our situation. 
If only our prisoners had had a little energy, the roles 
might have been reversed. I would not allow myself 
an instant even to think of this and I gave the order to 
my Boche colleague to take the command of his men. 
9 



130 Brave Belgians 

With incontestable authority, tapping his high 
boots with a little stick, the Lieutenant commanded 
in a very arrogant tone: "Attention!" I wondered 
again whether, in reply to one of his injunctions, given 
in a guttural tone in the German language, the whole 
band would not suddenly fall upon us and, instinc- 
tively, I tightened my hold on the butt end of my 
Mauser. . . . 

No, it was very evident that these soldiers had a 
special mentality. The little dandy, tightly buttoned 
up in his grey coat, marching at the head of his men, 
seemed to me absolutely repugnant. I knew that 
our soldiers, commanded by one of our brave com- 
rades, would not have remained long in the situation 
of this band of cowards. There they were, out- 
numbering us ridiculously, escorted by seven Belgian 
soldiers, marching to our Headquarters at Aerschot. 
Prisoners! They were prisoners and . . . happy! 

I was just about to fall in and close the march of this 
column, after promising to send help to the wounded, 
who were groaning in the ditch and calling out all the 
time: "A doctor. A doctor!" when a big, rough 
hand seized mine and shook it unceremoniously. It 
was Corporal Dethier, of the 27th, a brave miner of 
Liege. 

"Captain," he whispered, "we all thank you. As 
for me, I am very glad, for I feel that I have been a 
good soldier to-day." 1 

1 The names of these six brave men are: Massin, Cyclist 
Company; De Sutter, 3/2; Menu, 3/2; Le Kouttre, 3/2 of the 7th 
Line Regiment; Barthels and Sty, Cyclist Carabineers of the 
1st Cavalry Division, who were both proposed later on for honor- 
ary distinction; Corporal J. J. Dethier, who was wounded at the 
Yser and had his leg amputated. He has been made a Knight 
of the Order of Leopold. 



CHAPTER XVI 

(September 9-12, 1914) 

The Second Sortie from Antwerp 

Episode of the Battle before Over-de-Vaert (Haecht). 
By Lieutenant L. Chardome of the 14TH Line Regiment 

I AM writing the account of this combat in bed, at 
the Elisabeth Ambulance, as I am still suffering from 
my wounds of thirteen months ago. I give this 
account without any pretension and without any false 
modesty; my only care being to tell the exact truth. 

It was during the second sortie of the Antwerp 
garrison. My Company, the 2nd Division of Hotch- 
kiss machine-guns of the 3rd Army Division, had 
passed the night of September 11 and 12, 1914, 
along the embankment of the Malines-Louvain rail- 
way line, five hundred yards from the Haecht- Wespe- 
leare station. At 4 in the morning, we received 
orders to get into line and go to the support of the 
14th Line Regiment; my men mounted the slope in 
glee, and had soon cleared the summit. Very soon 
the two guns of my Section, the 52nd and 53rd, had 
taken their place with the sharp-shooters of Com- 
mander Magnette's Company, supporting the last 
Section of Infantry to the extreme left. 

The sharp-shooters during the night had occupied 
131 



132 Brave Belgians 

a trench intended for those who kneel and they were 
now busy making it deeper. To my right, I could see 
their outlines dimly through the morning mist. In 
the rear the 15 Howitzers, placed beyond the railway, 
had sounded the reveille and immediately, three 75 
batteries of the 12th Brigade took up the firing on the 
left. Towards 8 o'clock, the mist had entirely dis- 
appeared and the battle-field could be seen. Our 
losses were already important. First Sergeant- 
Major Carlens, Chief of the Machine-gun Section, 
had been killed and Butjens, who served the 52nd, 
had been shot through his thigh. I had reserved the 
52nd for myself and I was pointing it. From time to 
time, I called out to the men who were firing hap- 
hazard: "What are you aiming at? Do not shoot 
till you see the enemy." In order to give them 
confidence, however, I sent off about thirty cartridges, 
now and then, towards spots that I believed were 
occupied, as I know how it comforts the soldier to 
feel that he is being supported by the machine-gun. 

In front of us, the firing continued, and the German 
Maxims never ceased for an instant their ta-ra-ta-ra- 
ta. The question was, Where did this firing come 
from? It was not until ten o'clock that I finally 
caught sight of the enemy trenches. For six hours, 
until then, I had been searching the firing range 
with excellent field-glasses, and had not been able 
to discover anything. Suddenly, a German head 
emerged and revealed to me the whole position. 

"Caught!" I said to myself and I felt the most 
ferocious joy. I could now direct my firing, and Hu- 
bert Massart, my orderly, served me as observer. I 
succeeded, with three strips of thirty cartridges, in 
hitting straight at the parapet and the talus. I at 



The Second Sortie from Antwerp 133 

once communicated my discovery to the Infantry and 
to my 53rd and, from that moment, our firing was 
more intense, although intermittent. 

The morning passed by without any special incident 
and I took advantage of this for examining our posi- 
tion. In front of us was a glacis something like that of 
St. Privat, but ten times more dangerous, considering 
the power of firearms at present. It was a horse- 
shoe of fire, skirted with long, low houses, and these 
were now full of invisible and almost invulnerable 
defenders. The background consisted of two German 
trenches, separated by a white house with walls of 
cracked bricks, which served as a shelter for legions 
of Boches. The whole of the morning, the 75 cannons 
and the 15 Howitzers were directed on these houses, 
which, we were told, were occupied by picked shooters 
or by machine-guns. Our gunners aimed with 
wonderful precision, but the shells went through the 
first wall, burst in the first room, and left the others 
intact. One out of three of our projectiles set fire to 
something, which was distinctly better for us. 

I was installed behind the first obstacle of a deserted 
German trench, slightly outside and in front of our 
line, which I could flank, if necessary, whilst meeting 
a flank attack. To my left there was a gap opposite 
the Artillery, but on this side no foot-soldier could 
be seen. 

At mid-day, our brave men suddenly cleared the 
parapet of their trench and advanced, crawling along 
and firing all the time. The line at once supported 
them, slightly to the right, and this freed my two 
machine-guns. We advanced, in our turn, within 
the fiery circle, from which we could only come out 
dead or conquerors. 



134 Brave Belgians 

I decided to leave the 53rd to continue the firing 
and flank the attack, whilst, making use of the empty 
Boche trench, I could go forward with the 52nd and 
support the Infantry. 

"Bring the gun," I said to Sergeant Marechal; 
"close the cartridge boxes and follow me." 

I then set off to reconnoitre the road along which 
we had to go and the place to occupy for the firing. 
I had only to follow the German trench, about two 
hundred yards long, the end of which I was holding. 
When I came to the other end of this, I saw that the 
Infantry was advancing at a prodigious rate, under an 
extremely violent fire of musketry and machine-guns. 
To my right, in front of me just beyond a cross-road, 
was a second Boche trench which, curiously enough, 
I had not seen. I cleared the twenty-five yards which 
separated me from the cross-road. I then went along 
the ditch and, with a jump, reached the second trench. 
I went quickly right to the end of it and found that this 
formed a sort of hook, and that it would be a good 
position for the firing. I went quickly back to fetch 
my men and found they had already reached the 
cross-road. Unfortunately it was not possible to free 
the gun from the trivet of the Hotchkiss and, on 
account of the narrowness of the passage, we had 
great difficulty in transporting it. We made use of the 
ditch along the road, and then slipped into the second 
German trench. To the right, half way along, I 
caught sight of Corporal Boreux, of the 14th, out in 
the open field. He was dragging himself along with 
his legs bleeding. 

"Can I have my wounds dressed, Lieutenant?" he 
called out. 

"Quite impossible, my poor fellow!" I replied. 



The Second Sortie from Antwerp 135 

"Get down into the ditch, and as soon as the fight 
is over, you shall be seen to." 

The brave foot-soldiers were already at the end of 
the second Boche trench when I arrived and installed 
my gun. 

"Lieutenant," said Marechal, "there is a machine- 
gun firing on us." 

He was quite right for, from the right of the little 
house opposite us, a German gun was sending us its 
messages. I pointed immediately, at a distance of 
two hundred yards, and silenced it with the first volley. 
Its role was over. I then began to pepper the Boche 
trenches, to the right and left of the little house. My 
gun worked excellently well and my men were abso- 
lutely calm. The brave fellows of the 14th soon 
passed by and went farther on. In less than a quarter 
of an hour they had cleared four hundred and fifty 
yards. The line continued to support them. 

"Marechal," I said, "I am going to entrust you 
with a confidential mission. Go and fetch the 53rd 
and bring it here." 

I continued firing, thus neutralising the trench to 
the right. Our Artillery was obliged to stop firing on 
that side, but it peppered the left part and hit the 
walls and the houses on the main road from Louvain 
to Malines with its shrapnels. 

The Germans had no artillery, which was extremely 
fortunate for us. My 53rd did not arrive though, 
and I had decided that, as soon as it came to relieve 
me, I would go forward and join the left wing of my 
regiment, in order to give these brave fellows, at any 
cost, the comfort of the presence of a machine-gun. 
I wanted to be with them to the end. Fearing to 
arrive too late. I decided to start. 



136 Brave Belgians 

"Come along, boys," I said, "the moment has 
come for the final blow. Forward!" 

I seized the right foot of my gun, Massart the left 
one. 

Janssens gave a hand, and Fraikin and Collard 
carried the cartridge cases. With a great effort, we 
got out of our shelter into the open field. It was 
more than imprudence, it was almost foolhardiness. 
My shooting had proved to be very superior to the 
adversary's though, and the brilliant attack had made 
me so hopeful. We went along about ten yards, 
surrounded by a swarm of balls. The German trenches 
had recommenced firing right and left. At a dis- 
tance of three hundred yards, their picked shots and 
their machine-guns were aiming at us. Suddenly 
Massart fell, stifling a cry of pain. We all flung our- 
selves down on the ground. The well-known "kiss, 
kiss, " was whistling through the air. 

"Who is hit ? " I asked. " Is it you, Hubert ? " 

"Yes, in the arm, Lieutenant." 

The other men crawled down into the trenches we 
had just left. 

"Lieutenant, could I have my arm seen to?" asked 
Hubert. 

"Who is to do it?" I said. "Vile Bodies! I will 
pay them for it. Get close to the trench, put your 
head against the parapet, and do not stir from there." 

The "kiss, kiss" had ceased, for we were supposed 
to be all dead, and there were other objectives. I got 
up and once more began firing, but I was alone now 
in the midst of the fiery circle. My cousin, Lieu- 
tenant Fernand Marissal, who had brought his guns 
to my right, had stopped firing for the only reason 
possible. He had just been killed. Some Boches, 



The Second Sortie from Antwerp 137 

hiding in a house had sent him a ball in the head. 
The sharp-shooters no longer existed, the brave 
Commander Magnette had been killed at the head 
of them. I therefore had to face three sides. I 
commenced by imposing silence once more on the 
trench to the left, and a ball grazed my right cheek 
and nose. It was a violent shock and my face was all 
bleeding, but, fortunately, my eyes were spared. I 
continued shooting at the houses on the right and 
I peppered doors, windows, and roofs. After this I 
aimed at the trench, which fired back at me. I was 
hit in the right fore-arm. A vein was cut, and this 
meant a considerable hemorrhage. I turned up the 
sleeve of my sweater and found my shirt quite red; 
my fingers still worked, but with difficulty. I meant 
to make the men in hiding, on the main road, pay for 
this. My poor Hubert had dragged himself along 
to the first trench and he said to his comrades, who 
were now shooting with guns: "What, do you mean 
to say that the Lieutenant is left alone to do the 
firing? He has been wounded twice. Is there no 
one to help him? " These were his last words. Mor- 
tally wounded as he was, this hero used his last 
breath to exhort his comrades to do their duty. 

Janssens came out of the trench and charged my 
machine. I was just going to fire, when I was hit 
on the knee and brought to the ground. 

"They have broken my leg!" I said. It certainly 
was in a strange position, and I pulled it round and 
stretched it out in front of me. I fired the last strip 
of cartridges loaded, and all those in the box near me. 
It was all I could do. Janssens had returned to the 
trench. I took off my right spur, which was twisting 
my broken leg, and lay down on my back, with my 



i3 8 Brave Belgians 

head on my shako, and a map on my face to protect 
me from the heat of the sun. It was 12.30. The sky 
was extremely limpid, with whitish clouds here and 
there. From time to time, the crows flew slowly by, 
uttering their hoarse croak. 

"What are your orders, Lieutenant?" suddenly 
said a voice near me. 

It was the brave Marechal, accompanied by Cor- 
poral Treize and Private Van Herck of the 53rd. 

"What about the 53rd?" I asked. 

"It won't work, Lieutenant." 

"Where is it?" 

"We have put it completely out of use." 

"Is there nothing more to be done then?" 

"Yes, we are going to move you from here, Lieu- 
tenant." 

"No, my boys, " I said, "during action, the wounded 
cannot be moved." I could not, of course, accept 
for myself what I had refused twice for my men. 

"Put the gun out of use, " I said. 

"We are going to save it, Lieutenant." 

Taking advantage of a lull, he and the other two 
seized the gun and managed to drag it into the trench. 
This was a joy to me. The assault had failed. The 
first line had been massacred and those supporting it 
had stopped firing. Behind us and to the right, the 
Darche Company, of the 14th, now occupied the 
cross-road, where my poor cousin's two guns had 
been once more brought into action. Farther on, 
and to the left, the Moreau Company was defending 
Magnette's trench. The balls of this Company, as 
well as those of the enemy, passed over my head. 
Before going away with my 52nd, the good fellows 
begged affectionately to take me away. I refused 



The Second Sortie from Antwerp 139 

categorically, for, as an officer, I wished to share the 
same fate as the brave soldiers who had fallen during 
the attack. I put an eighth cartridge into my Brown- 
ing, determined to defend myself to the end. Pre- 
sently, I heard the breathing of my poor Hubert 
M assart develop into the death rattle. A significant 
crispation of the spine caused his chest to swell, his 
nostrils were ominously drawn. I was present at 
his death and could do nothing. 

As to myself, I was happy and very proud. My 
blood was flowing freely and I had nothing with which 
to staunch the wound. Fortunately, my tight 
breeches and my putties served as a sort of harness 
and, as vigorously as my injured hand allowed me, I 
fastened the strap of my field-glasses round my thigh. 

The combat continued intermittently. At 5.30, 
a few Boche shells were still falling here and there, 
within the firing range. One of them buried itself a 
few yards away from me and the soil thrown up by the 
explosion half covered me. I determined to try and 
rejoin the Darche Company and began to drag myself 
along on my back, with the help of my one leg and my 
elbows, leaving behind me a line of blood. From time 
to time, I lifted my arm to show my rank to friends, 
and I heard them cry out distinctly : 

"Take care, take care, the Lieutenant!" 

Towards 6.30 I reached the cross-road and, by a 
miracle, I managed to clear the first ditch. One of 
the sharp-shooters took me by the shoulders when I 
arrived at the second one. He dragged me the whole 
length of the ditch to the left of his Company. Cor- 
poral Boreux and other wounded men were there and 
we were then in safety. 



CHAPTER XVH 
The 1st Regiment of Lancers 

By Staff Deputy Colonel E. Joostens 

The operations of the Siege of Antwerp commenced on the 
28th of September. The enemy bombarded the Forts, the 
resistance of which was compromised by the firing of cannon of 
42 cm. At the same time the enemy endeavoured to force the 
Escaut, between Termonde and Ghent, with the idea of cutting 
off the retreat of the Belgian army. The river was defended by 
the 4th Army Division, which was posted chiefly in the vicinity 
of Termonde. The 1st Lancers were at the extreme right of the 
Division. More to the west, towards Wetteren, the 1st Division 
of Cavalry was spread along the whole left bank of the Dendre. 

The organisation of the Belgian army, when at 
war, requires a cavalry regiment for every division. 
Thanks to the hazards of this campaign, only the 
1st and 3rd Lancers remained permanently with the 
big units to which they were organically attached. 

Whilst the greater part of the men with our arm 
expected to keep their spurs, which are worn very high, 
and were preparing their flourish of trumpets, the 1st 
Lancers, that is the mounted ones, could not have 
the same pretensions, as they were destined to 
share the fate of the 4th Army Division during nearly 
all the operations. There was plenty of good work to 
be done, nevertheless, and from the very commence- 

140 



The ist Regiment of Lancers 141 

ment, both on the banks of the Meuse and around 
Namur, our bold reconnaissances proved the value 
of this arm. In the northern Sector, Deputy Staff 
Major Lenercier, at present a brilliant Colonel of the 
5th Lancers, took the direction of the combats of 
Boneffe and of the Sauveniere Mill. To the south, 
our regretted comrade, Lieutenant Moreau, made a 
most daring reconnaissance. At the head of two 
platoons, he went as far as Ciney, which was full of 
Germans. On his return, his little troop was com- 
pletely surrounded, but the Lieutenant was not to be 
intimidated. He assailed his adversary and, thanks 
to his own personal intervention, he saved the life, or 
at least the liberty, of one of his comrades, who was 
surrounded by Uhlans, just as they were preparing to 
do him an evil turn. 

The spirit of our mounted Lancers is admirable. 
How many of them have given proof of individual 
prowess! I well remember, among a hundred in- 
stances, that of the gay trumpeter, who had specialised 
in hunting the Boches. He would start off alone on 
his hunt, and he was very much cast down if he did 
not account for two or three in his day's work. Some- 
times he would account for about ten of them, and 
his eyes were brighter than usual on those days. 

The evacuation of Namur took place on the 23rd 
of August, and was a difficult and sorrowful retreat. 
The march was long, the horses exhausted, the tem- 
perature very high, and the Uhlans sometimes very 
near indeed, but what did all that matter? We had 
to rejoin our fellow-soldiers with the fighting army. 
And after various incidents we reached Coulommiers 
and La Ferte\ From there we went to Havre, and 
had a few days of peaceful life, in the midst of a 



14 2 Brave Belgians 

population whose hospitable welcome has left grate- 
ful memories in our Belgian hearts. Four steamers 
then took us back to our own country. We had 
time to re-equip ourselves and, after a few days at 
Contich, we took part in the operations around the 
retrenched camp. There were reconnaissances to be 
carried out to the north of Malines, and in the direction 
of Louvain, Lippeloo, etc. Our officers kept sur- 
passing each other in activity and daring, and the 
men were as brave as their chiefs. 

At the beginning of October, the besiegers com- 
menced the general attack of the position organised 
on the north bank of the Nethe. At the same time, 
they made some attempts to force the passage of the 
Escaut at Baesrode, Termonde, and Schoonaerde. 
The 4th Army Division and the 1st Cavalry Division 
stopped them. The role of the 1st Lancers, at that 
time, was to send out reconnaissances beyond Ter- 
monde, to Gyseghem and Audeghem and then, when 
the enemy was too insistent, to ensure the guarding 
of the Escaut and, if necessary, the defence of the 
river between Dyck and Schoonaerde. 

Towards the 4th of October, the situation became 
rather critical. The following is an extract from an 
account given by Captain Commander Cartuyvels 
de Collaert, who depicts the situation faithfully as 
far as his Squadron was concerned. The others had 
experiences just as critical. 

"A Company of Infantry in the first line, " he says, 
"and my Squadron in the second line were to prevent 
the Boches from passing the bridge, which had been 
partially destroyed, at Schoonaerde. 

"In the afternoon of the 4th of October, there was 



The i st Regiment of Lancers 143 

violent firing from the enemy. I evacuated the horses 
quickly. Part of the little hamlet of Dael, to the 
south of Berlaere, where the horses then were, was 
literally shattered. 

"During the bombardment, Staff Deputy Colonel 
Joostens, who was then Major, arrived at Berlaere on 
his way to the Schoonaerde bridge. I was stopped 
by the shells at the last houses, to the south of Dael, 
and had just time to fling myself into a ditch two yards 
to the east of the road, in front of a farm which 
received four or five projectiles. A little while after 
this, Staff Commander Adjutant Major Yperman 
hastened up to me. 

'"Where is the Major?' he asked. 

"'There,' I answered, pointing to the Escaut. 
Just at this moment, an artillery salvo saluted his 
arrival. Honour be to whom honour is due ! 

"'I fancy you want me to be killed,' said Com- 
mander Yperman, laughing. 

"To my right, on the other side of the road, was a 
cultivated field, and then a little farm surrounded 
by hedges. I saw a firing effect there that seemed 
extraordinary. The shells were raining down. Sud- 
denly, a ball of fire, which looked about three or four 
yards in diameter, came along quickly, parallel with 
the road in the direction of the little farm, but close 
to the ground. It cleared the hedge, scarcely touching 
it, just as a horse might have done at a hunt. It 
was a very pretty sight ! 

"We had no losses that day, but alas, it was a very 
different thing the day following. Towards evening, 
I received orders to fall back and occupy, with my 
Squadron, the south border of Berlaere. 

"Lieutenant Roup was hit in the leg by shrapnel, 



144 Brave Belgians 

but was not seriously wounded. At night, a fresh 
communication arrived. My brave Lancers were to go 
into the trenches that I had been to inspect near the 
Schoonaerde bridge. The Boches were on the other 
side of the river. 

1 ■ The following morning, the 5th of October, we were 
to be four or five hundred yards to the east of the 
bridge, in order to let our Artillery shoot over Schoon- 
aerde. Just at this point, the Escaut makes a slight 
concave bend towards the north, that is on our side. 
I was, therefore, afraid of two things. First, there 
was the danger that the Germans, covered by their 
own Artillery, might cross the bridge without our 
seeing them, as we were rather far from it ourselves. 
Then I feared that we might be surprised from behind, 
on account of the turn in the Escaut, as Boche senti- 
nels were visible on a sort of cupola, at the top of a Ger- 
man manufactory near the Schoonaerde station, a 
manufactory which we had not been allowed to de- 
stroy by fire the week before. Towards 6.30, 1 went to 
the bridge, after telling my men to hide in the small 
trenches we had made during the night in the embank- 
ment of the Escaut. On arriving as far as the church, 
I heard the roar of cannon. I had a pang at my 
heart, dreading lest the target should be my poor 
Squadron. Two minutes later, a formidable storm 
burst over our wretched little trenches, and this 
storm continued for half an hour. 

"'Not a single man will be left,' I said to myself, 
as the projectiles passed, one after another, twenty 
yards in front of me, with an infernal noise. The 
whizzing of the shrapnels and the roar of the shells 
were frightful. The air seemed to be torn by them 
and the commotion was terrible." 



The ist Regiment of Lancers 145 

The following is an episode of what took place in 
the trenches, according to a letter from Lieutenant de 
Burlet, which I received a few days later. 

"At Schoonaerde, I lost seven men of my platoon. 
One of them was a sub-officer and another my poor 
orderly, whom you saw by me in the trench. A 
shrapnel burst two yards away from us, taking off 
my poor Tuitinier's face. I took refuge under his 
dead body from 6.30 to 7.45 when, after escaping a 
thousand dangers and feeling all the revulsions of the 
body which was protecting me, each time it was hit 
by the splinters from the shells, I beat a retreat 
on hearing your whistle." 

"At about 7.30," continues Commander Cartuyvels, 
1 ' the firing ceased. I left my shelter and heard German 
being spoken on the other side of the water. Piff ! 
paff ! . . . A ball had hit me in the chest, but by a 
miracle had been turned aside by a pocket-knife. A 
second hit me in the left knee. 

"I had received instructions to remain as long as I 
thought it possible. Considering that the position 
could no longer be held, I gave orders to my Squadron 
to beat a retreat. I tried to start as well as I could 
on all threes, as I could not use my fourth member. 
I got into a ditch, which was full of water, and then 
into a second one. I was up to my neck in water 
and I then dragged myself along on the wet grass. 
Another ball broke my right thigh, near the hip. 
I was settled now and I pretended to be dead, but, in 
spite of this, these 'cultivated creatures' continued 
firing on me. What a mental retrospection one has 
time for when one has to stay for twelve or thirteen 
hours under the enemy's balls !. 



146 Brave Belgians 

"I wrote on my cuffs to my wife and to my mother, 
bidding them farewell, and I lay there waiting for 
death! The shells continued to rage over my head 
and the bullets to whizz through the air. A foot- 
soldier, crawling along a few yards away from me, 
was shot through the head. He uttered a hoarse 
cry and his soul passed away. 

"In the afternoon, I either had a dum-dum ball or 
one that had been turned aside in my left thigh, and 
this caused me great suffering. 

"When the darkness came on, thanks to a little 
whistle which I always used for giving orders, I was 
found by Quartermaster de Looz-Corswarem and 
Thibaut of my Squadron. They were helped by a 
civilian and by a private belonging to the Infantry, 
whose name I believe was Ledent, and I was put on 
to a wheelbarrow and taken to Dael. I was saved ! 

"Under the direction of Dr. Godenne, de Looz and 
Thibaut brought in several other wounded men. 
They have since received a military decoration for 
their fine work. Seventeen men were killed or 
reported missing that day, and seven were wounded 
and taken to the hospital. Out of three officers en- 
gaged in the combat, two were seriously wounded, 
and one escaped by using the body of his orderly as a 
shield. The 4th Squadron had proved itself worthy 
of its country ! 

"Things were no better on the 6th. The reserve 
Squadrons intervened in their turn and held out 
wonderfully. Nothing whatever disturbed their 
equanimity. What brave men they were! They 
were told that if the enemy attempted to come to 
close quarters, they could defend themselves with the 
butt end of their guns, as they had no bayonets. They 



The ist Regiment of Lancers 147 

accepted this perspective with sang-froid and with 
that decision which had always been their character- 
istic. 

" Lieutenant-General Michel sent them his warmest 
congratulations on the following day. I transmitted 
the same to my troop in the following words : 

'"After the combats in the neighbourhood of 
Schoonaerde and Appels, the Lieutenant-General in 
command of the 4th Army Division has begged me to 
convey his warmest congratulations to all the officers, 
sub-officers, brigadiers, and men of the regiment who, 
for several consecutive days, carried out an extremely 
difficult and exposed service in the trenches. The 
exceptionally firm and resolute conduct of the ist 
Regiment of Lancers has won the admiration of 
Lieutenant-General Michel and I am proud and 
happy to transmit to all those who have merited it the 
testimony of his great satisfaction. We shall none 
of us ever forget those of our comrades who fell during 
these cruel days, nor any of those whom we have lost 
since the beginning of the campaign, and our courage 
and activity will be greater than ever now, in order 
to avenge and honour their memory.' " 

The retreat led us in the direction of the Yser, and 
we were frequently in close contact with the enemy's 
Cavalry at Thourout, Moerbeke, Vladsloo, and 
Bovekerque, and finally, after the great battle, the 
Squadrons, giving up for the time their spurs, mingled 
during long months with the foot-soldiers, in order to 
share with them in the work of organising and defend- 
ing the trenches. 

The King considered that the ist Regiment of 
Lancers had specially distinguished itself at Schoon- 
aerde, at Selzaete, and before Dixmude, and rewarded 



148 Brave Belgians 

a number of my brave officers by granting to them 
the following distinctions : 

Colonel A. E. M. Joostens, Major A. E. M. Lemer- 
cier, Captain Commander Cartuyvels: Officers of the 
Order of Leopold. 

Major A. E. M. Yperman, Captain Commander 
Ch. de Melotte: Knights of the Legion of Honour. 

Captain Commander de Thier, Rosseels: Knights 
of the Order of Leopold. 

Lieutenants Pulincx, Delfosse, Deboek, Laffineur, 
Orban: Knights of the Order of Leopold. 

Sub-Lieutenants Dugardin, Cartuyvels de Collaert, 
Ch. de Melotte: Knights of the Order of Leopold. 

Drs. Brasseur, Hallez, Godenne: Knights of the 
Order of Leopold. 

Lieutenants Moreau, de Kerchove, de Denterghem: 
Knights of the Order of Leopold and a citation in the 
minutes of the Army. 

Lieutenant Rolin: Knight of the Order of Leo- 
pold and a decoration of the Order of St. Anne (3rd 
class). 

Lieutenant Bertrand: Knight of the Order of the 
Crown. 

Commander Bosquet: A citation in the minutes 
of the Army. 

Army Doctor Evrard. A citation in the minutes 
of the Army. 

Lieutenants Verhaegen, Roup, Fichefet, Count 
d'Ursel (Georges) : A citation in the minutes of the 
Army. 

Sub-Lieutenant Baron Sloet van Oldruytenborg: 
A citation in the minutes of the Army. 

It would take too long to enumerate the rewards 
of the lower ranks and of the cavalrymen, but I 



The i st Regiment of Lancers 149 

would not finish this brief account without expressing 
to them my admiration and taking off my hat to 
all of them, whilst repeating the words of a great 
chief: "I would go down on my knees to them all." 

Wulpen, October, 191 5. 



CHAPTERXVIII 

The Termonde Bridge 

By an Officer of the 4.TH Artillery Regiment 

On the 28th of September, 19 14, the 1st Group of 
the 4th Artillery, under Captain Commander T'Ser- 
st evens, after distinguishing itself in the combats 
fought to the south of Termonde, at St. Gilles, at 
Audeghem and at Wieze, came to Grembergen to take 
the place of the batteries of the 4th Brigade, which 
was made up of various units. Of all the positions 
at Termonde, that of the bridge itself, then occupied 
by a cannon intended to take it by enfilade, was the 
most dangerous of any. All the chiefs of the sections 
of this group had been on service there, turn by turn. 
Two of them, Sub-Lieutenants Hiernaux and Mayat, 
were killed there. 

Hiernaux fell at his post, the night of the 1st of 
October, during an attack by the enemy. The Ter- 
monde bridge had been destroyed beforehand, and 
a wooden bridge had been constructed and mined by a 
section of the Engineers, who were there ready to 
blow it up. With the 13th Line Regiment, and a 
machine-gun, we occupied the left bank of the Escaut 
and the Germans held the town itself, which was 
built on the opposite bank. The bridge, therefore, 
constituted a passage common to us both, and the 

150 



The Termonde Bridge 151 

defensive organisations on both sides were similar 
and formidable. The banks of the river were merely- 
deep trenches, and the nearest houses served as 
block-houses for the machine-guns and small cannons. 
Our look-out men, on the alert all the time, were 
endeavouring to surprise the enemy's least prepara- 
tions in the ruins, with which we were already famil- 
iar, of the burnt town. The framework of the gaping 
houses looked, at night, like so many weird skeletons. 
From time to time, by the light of a moonbeam, we 
saw figures gliding along between the portions of the 
walls. Such figures were always promptly saluted 
by the crackling of a ball and they would then dis- 
appear among the ruins. Over yonder, like so many 
will-o'-the-wisps, little blue flames could be seen at 
intervals. They were caused by the elite of the 
enemy's picked guns aiming at any heads which 
appeared above our parapets. 

The night of the 1st of October was a beautiful, 
starry autumn night. The German Artillery, after 
an excessively violent bombardment, which had 
lasted several hours and had obliged our much-tried 
Infantry to leave the dyke and to curve round the 
other parts of the bridge, now fired less frequently. 
The soldiers, leaning against their shelters, were en- 
joying fresh air in relative tranquillity. 

A vigilant sentinel suddenly hailed his chief. He 
had just seen a dark compact mass moving along. 
It was not very visible by the light of the moon, but it 
appeared to be making for the bridge. 

There was no doubt about it, the enemy was trying 
to effect a passage. At the signal of alarm, foot- 
soldiers, machine- and cannon-gunners rushed to their 
posts, and the storm immediately broke loose. 



152 Brave Belgians 

Under the protection of a violent and continuous 
firing from the right bank, an assaulting column came 
out from the principal street of Termonde. The first 
men were carrying mattresses, which they endeavoured 
to use as shields; the others followed, in close ranks 
without any order. They looked more like a flock of 
animals than a regularly constituted troop. They 
were singing their famous Gloria Victoria and appeared 
to be absolutely drunk. After the first discharges 
of musketry, the artillery gun had its men hors de 
combat, with the exception of Sub-Lieutenant Hiernaux 
and the man in command of the cannon, who both 
opened fire on the assailants. The machine-gun en- 
tered into action as well, whilst the soldiers of the 13th 
Line Regiment fired direct on the German troops who, 
nevertheless, managed to get a footing on the bridge. 

The officer of the Engineers who had mined it 
had two discharges. Seeing that the assailants who 
were killed were instantly replaced by others, and 
that the enemy was threatening the left bank, this 
brave man established the electric contact. To 
our stupefaction, no detonation followed. The Ger- 
mans had now reached the end of the bridge. Without 
any excitement, the officer seized the second discharge. 
A formidable explosion took place, flinging into the 
distance the ruins of the bridge, fragments of human 
beings, and various objects of their equipment. All 
fell pele-mele into the river and on to the banks, 
covering the soldiers who were hidden there with 
blood and with human shreds. In face of this disaster, 
the assaulting column stopped short, horrified, and 
then rushed back in disorder towards the town, whilst 
huge flames rose from the piles of the bridge which 
had been soaked in petroleum. 



The Termonde Bridge 153 

The surprise attack had failed, and two more weak 
attempts were cut short by our shelling. The usual 
vengeance was then resorted to. The enemy Artillery 
concentrated its fire on the vicinity of the bridge. 
Our brave troops lived through one of those critical 
moments when the destructive power of the human 
machine is only comparable to the grandeur of souls 
ready for any sacrifice. For one long hour, our 
soldiers were submitted to a storm of steel which, 
with a hellish clatter, warned them of a fresh attack. 
It was necessary to conquer the intense nervous strain, 
to watch without ceasing, and to examine all the 
impenetrable and threatening fortification works on 
the other bank of the river. It was whilst examining 
all this, from above the shield of his cannon, that 
Sub-Lieutenant Hiernaux fell, just at the critical 
moment, struck between the eyes by a ball. His 
fine death proved to us once more all that there is of 
energy, sang-froid, and courage among our subaltern 
ranks. 

Quartermaster Francotte ordered the officer's body 
to be carried to a neighbouring shelter and he covered 
it over with a wrap. He then took Hiernaux's place 
at the cannon and kept his aids there all night, whilst 
the neighbouring trenches had to be abandoned for a 
time, as they were impossible, on account of the gas 
from the explosion of the shells. 

Two days later, Sub-Lieutenant Mayat was on 
service at the bridge. In the afternoon, the Com- 
mander of the group and his aid came to examine the 
adversary's organisation. The heads of the three 
officers, Sub-Lieutenant Mayat between the other 
two, were just for an instant above the shield formed 
by the cannon. This formed an excellent target for 



154 Brave Belgians 

those on the other side. A ball whizzed by and one of 
the heads disappeared. Mayat, without uttering a 
cry, fell against his chief, and a stream of red blood 
spurted from his pierced temple and inundated his 
face, which had turned suddenly livid. 

At present, the two friends are sleeping their 
glorious sleep side by side, in the little cemetery of 
Grembergen, where we buried them reverently. 
The day will come when those who know of their 
noble death and who, more fortunate than they, have 
been spared, will be able to go and place flowers on 
their tombs, in order to show their gratitude and 
admiration. 

But no homage can be equal to the tears of sincere 
grief of the officer who was sent to take Sub-Lieu- 
tenant Mayat' s place, when he saw his comrade lying 
at his post, in all the rigidity of the last sleep. 



CHAPTER XIX 

The No. 7 Armoured Car 

By Sub-Lieutenant G. Thiery, of the ist Regiment of 

Guides, in Command of the Group of Armoured Cars 

of the ist Cavalry Division 

What an easy and pleasant task it is to relate the 
adventures of another person and to praise the ex- 
ploits and the courage of a friend. But how delicate 
and trying it is to describe one's own deeds! To the 
man who considers himself rewarded by the feeling of 
having done his duty, it is by no means easy to have 
to say: "I was there and this is what happened to 
me. ..." However, since I am requested to give this 
account, I must do so. 

It was at Wommelghem, near Antwerp, that, on 
the 4th of September, 19 14, I was given command of 
the No. 7 armoured car attached to the Cavalry Divi- 
sion. I will begin by congratulating those who 
invented and thought out this engine of warfare. 
Some have been built which were six months in the 
work-shops. Of these, some are monuments which 
can never be utilised, and others are wonders invented 
in offices, which need to be stripped of three quarters 
of their improvements, in order to be of any use under 
fire. In three weeks, the Minerva factory and the 
Cockerill work-shops delivered to the Belgian army 

i55 



156 Brave Belgians 

what I believe to be the best armoured car in use. 
It is sure, easily worked, rapid, strong, and efficiently 
protected. The No. 7 car brought me a number of 
brave men. First there was Count Guy de Berlay- 
mont, the personification of courage and indifference 
to danger; then Constant Heureux, bravery and ab- 
negation made man; finally Dujardin and Gouffaux, 
two good and valiant soldiers. All of them, like 
myself, were volunteers. 

Without any preliminaries, we found ourselves at 
once in the midst of the drama. 

On the evening of the 5th of September, at the 
Criterium at Antwerp, Lieutenant Hankar, Count 
Henri de Villermont, Prince Baudouin de Ligne, 
Misson, Philippe de Zualar, Berlaymont and I were 
sitting round a table, discussing our departure joyfully. 

On the evening of the 6th, Berlaymont and I were 
again at the Criterium, and big tears came to our 
eyes, as we looked at the empty seats which had 
been occupied, the previous evening, by our friends. 
That afternoon, whilst patrolling round Herenthals, 
we heard that their vehicles had been attacked near 
Zammel. All that we were able to snatch from the 
enemy had been three dead men, four wounded 
ones, some weapons, and two armoured cars. 

The Germans had now a fresh item, and a very 
big one, on the account that we had to settle with 
them. 

On the 8th of September, we had our revenge. 
For the second time, the army made a sortie from 
Antwerp, and the Cavalry Division, forming the left 
wing, advanced towards Louvain. Information of all 
kinds poured in at Headquarters and one detail 
struck General de Witte, that chief of whom I can 



The No. 7 Armoured Car 157 

never speak without the greatest respect and ad- 
miration. The General had been told that the village 
of Werchter was only weakly guarded. A bold stroke 
might make us masters of the passage of the Dyle. 
This stroke was to be attempted. 

The execution of it was confided to the Battalion 
of Cyclist Carabineers, that heroic phalanx which 
does not need to be introduced to any one, so 
well is it known. Everyone is acquainted with our 
diables noirs (black devils), those of Haelen, and 
of everywhere else where there were blows to be 
given and laurels to reap, that band of brave men 
who always set out laughing, dressed their wounds 
whilst singing, and returned to the fight the following 
day, their natural ardour increased by the desire to 
avenge the deaths of the previous day. 

My armoured car set out at the head of the little 
column. Between Schriek and Tremeloo, a Com- 
pany of Cyclists was left to serve as support for the 
two others who went forward. We arrived at Treme- 
loo. In this devastated and deserted village, Lieu- 
tenant Fritz de Menten and half a platoon of the 
2nd Lancers were awaiting us. They confirmed the 
information that Werchter was only held by a small 
force. They had been assured that the Boche foot- 
soldiers, with the exception of those who were doing 
the cooking in the Square, were all busy getting drunk 
on yack op at the wine-shop. 

What enthusiasm there was amongst us! Our 
two hundred and fifty Cyclists were relishing the 
joy that they would have in seeing their old acquaint- 
ances again, the Prussian pilferers, house-burners, 
and torturers. They set off in three columns. The 
middle one, which I led, took the direct road. Another 



158 Brave Belgians 

one turned to the left, in order to attack Werchter, 
by the Dyle. The third column took the plain to the 
right, in order to approach the village from the north. 
Lieutenant de Menten's half platoon served as scouts 
for the column on the left. We rushed off at full 
speed. The bridge over the Laak, a small tributary 
to the right of the Dyle, was soon crossed, the cycles 
were then left, and the sharp-shooters went off at a 
trot, stooping in order to be hidden in the harvest 
fields. 

I reached the first houses in Werchter with my car. 
There was not a soul to be seen! This silence and 
mystery did not seem natural to us. A hundred 
yards away, the chief street was barricaded. An 
inhabitant assured us that the few Boches who had 
occupied Werchter had already taken flight in the 
direction of the bridges. We immediately took the 
machine-gun out of the car, together with its support 
and the cases of cartridges, intending to carry all this 
over the barricade, which the motor-car could not 
cross, and then sweep the bridge with balls, so that 
our prey should not escape us. 

Berlaymont, with the machine-gun on his shoulder, 
and a cyclist carrying two cartridge cases, were the 
first to enter the street. They had not gone ten steps 
when they were greeted by a volley of bullets. The 
shooting was from all the windows and the cyclist 
had his arm broken. This volley was evidently a 
signal, as the whole circumference of Werchter now 
broke out into short flames. An infernal firing then 
took place, interspersed with the tac-tac-tac of 
Maxims. Werchter was a trap. We were attacking 
the enemy one against four, and our adversary was 
invulnerable behind the walls of the houses. Our 



The No. 7 Armoured Car 159 

retreat was obligatory, but the question was, Could 
the destruction of the Battalion be avoided? 

It is in these tragic moments that the worth of a 
troop can be judged. In reply to their officers' 
whistling, the Cyclists fell back in good order, replying 
at the same time to the enemy's firing. Just as though 
they were at drill, my men put back the machine-gun 
support in its box, and strapped it up, whilst the 
chief gunner put his cannon on its battery and awaited 
the order to fire. In the car, each man took the 
place assigned to him beforehand: the chief gunner 
standing up by the side of the driver. The latter 
charged the machine and also attended to his driving. 
The second gunner was seated in Turkish fashion at 
the back. He passed the charges full and arranged 
the empty cases. The chief was kneeling down at his 
side, the upper part of his body higher than the plat- 
ing. It is his part to direct the aim, with the aid 
of his field-glasses. This is the dangerous post, at 
which three quarters of those killed in armoured cars 
have had their skulls pierced. I have been wounded 
twice in the head at this post. 

Our Cyclists were now beginning to recross the 
Laak bridge, and we opened a rapid fire on the limits 
of Werchter, where the enemy appeared to be coming 
out in our pursuit. 

Firing attracts firing, and a shower of balls crackled 
over the armoured car, passing close to our ears with 
the noise of huge, furious flies buzzing quickly through 
the air. 

Our brave Hotchkiss fired without ceasing. The 
second gunner was tending his machine as though it 
were a pet animal. As soon as it had spit forth its 
shower of a hundred balls, he quickly put a pinch of 



i6o Brave Belgians 

vaseline on the piston and a damp rag over the cannon. 
In five minutes, a thousand cartridges had been 
fired. The cannon was getting warm. From black, 
it had changed to blue and was mottled with spots. 
It had to be changed. We were advancing towards 
the Laak bridge, which all the Cyclists had now 
crossed. As we went along, we encouraged the 
wounded ones who were trying to crawl along as far 
as there. We changed the cannon , whilst under 
fire. There was a bolt to draw, then a few blows of 
the mallet on a big key, the cannon was grasped 
between rags and plunged into a basin of cold water. 
With a hissing noise, a long spurt of boiling water 
flowed up-hill. Whilst the chief gunner examined 
the mechanism of his machine and greased it, his 
helper drew the second cannon from its sheath and 
put it in its place. With a thud, it settled and, the 
whole operation having taken forty seconds, we were 
once more ready to fire. 

The enemy was now coming out from Werchter. 
I could see the lines of sharp-shooters distinctly. 
They were advancing in the fields of rye and beet-root. 

"Do you see them?" I asked. 

"Yes." 

"At three hundred yards, mow them down with 
volleys of sixty, if you like, Fire!" 

And our Hotchkiss continued its noise, which 
sounded like a huge sewing machine. Over yonder, 
we saw the grey fellows tumbling over each other, 
running, hiding. And the balls whizzed round us 
quicker than ever. 

The Cyclists were still five hundred yards away from 
us in their retreat, but our cannon was again getting 
warm and, besides this, the extractor was dirty and 



The No. 7 Armoured Car 161 

some of the balls failed. We fell back a second time 
and, behind a hedge, the changing of the cannon again 
took place. This time we had the additional compli- 
cation of changing the extractor. The enemy took 
advantage of this for advancing at full speed. 

"Quick! quick! is everything ready?" 

The car fell back. A hundred yards from the 
bridge there was a good place for it. From there we 
could see for five hundred yards along both sides of 
the route skirting the Laak. This time we were keenly 
on the watch. We no longer replied to the firing in- 
tended for us: it was no use wasting munition hap- 
hazard. The chief gunner to the right, and I to the 
left, watched the groups which arrived on the bank 
of the river. 

Rrann! . . . and there was a charge 1 for each 
group. How many fell like that! It was good 
firing, with certain result. And there was no hurry 
now, so that the cannon only got gradually warm. 

The combat had been going on for forty minutes. 
The Cyclists must have reached Tremeloo. There 
were still the wounded ones to look after. Berlay- 
mont and I got down and picked up six or seven of 
them. We placed them on the chests, on the wings, 
on the platform, at the back, and even on the hood. 
This exasperated the Boches, who fired on us furiously. 
We now made off, but on the Tremeloo road, we came 
across about twenty poor wounded men, dragging 
themselves along in the most lamentable way. They 
stretched out their hands to us, beseeching to be picked 
up. It was impossible to abandon them. Six volun- 
teers of the Cyclist rear-guard offered their services. 
They discovered a cart and an old horse which, by 

1 A charge comprises thirty cartridges placed on a metallic band. 



162 Brave Belgians 

some miracle, had remained among the ruins of a 
farm and, whilst they were doing this, the machine- 
gun received certain indispensable repairs. The car 
then started once more towards Werchter, followed 
by the cart transformed into an ambulance. About 
one hundred yards in front of the bridge, a wounded 
man was lying across the road. He begged to be picked 
up at once. We fastened him to the platform and 
thought no more about him, for the balls were raining 
down again. The Boches had crossed the bridge and 
we had to drive them back, so that we could pick up 
the wounded men. We advanced slowly, giving our 
enemies a hellish fire. They were running from 
hedge to hedge, quite near to us. 

Lieutenant de Menten, who had been taken pris- 
oner at the beginning of the action, and was freed 
later on, told us about this part of the fight. The 
Germans, two battalions and a squadron strong, 
dragged him along with them in the pursuit, and we 
came very near freeing him ourselves. For a short 
time, he was surrounded by the dead and he had to 
lie down flat in a ditch, in order to avoid sharing the 
fate of his keepers. We were only one hundred yards 
away. We had painted a gigantic 7 on our car, out of 
sheer bravado. A German officer told him that even- 
ing that that "cursed Number Seven" had killed 
more than two hundred men in an hour. 

Our provision of 4500 cartridges was coming to an 
end though. We began to fall back a little, especially 
as the balls were now coming from right and left. 
There were no longer any wounded men on the road, 
as our brave Carabineers had worked well. 

"Good Heavens!" we suddenly exclaimed "and 
what about the man we picked up and put at the back 



The No. 7 Armoured Car 163 

of the motor-car ? ' ' When our last volley was fired we 
visited him, expecting to find him in a piteous state. 
Miraculously, he had not a single scratch more than 
when we had picked him up, and yet the back of the 
car was riddled with marks of bullets. What a piece 
of good luck for him and, as for us, our men were all 
there; we had not lost one. 

During that second sortie from Antwerp, we had 
magnificent chances of distinguishing ourselves every 
day. On the loth of September, for instance, we 
started from Rhode St. Pierre with some Pioneers 
and, slipping between German posts and patrols, we 
reached Cumptich, near Tirlemont, about ten miles 
behind the enemy's lines. Whilst the Pioneers were 
destroying the railway line from Louvain to Liege, we 
kept a lookout on the road. A red auto came along. 
It was a Pipe, 12 horse-power, 1912, driven by a Ger- 
man soldier, and there were two conceited-looking 
officers in it. Berlaymont seized his carbine and, 
at a hundred yards' distance, fired twice. Each ball 
hit an officer straight. The car stopped short and the 
chauffeur held up his arms. We rushed forward, our 
Brownings in our hands. The two officers were on the 
floor of the car, with their heads open. 

"What a pity," said Berlaymont, regretfully, 
"they have made a mess of the leather!" 

After securing the chauffeur, we started along the 
road in our car. On approaching the sentinels, we 
called out to them: "Come here, or you are dead 
men." 

Not one of the five prisoners we made attempted 
to defend himself. As soon as they saw the armoured 
car, they threw down their weapons and put their 
hands up. Some of them knelt down and asked for 



164 Brave Belgians 

pardon. On returning, our captured car came to a 
stand-still and the prisoner chauffeur repaired it 
with the most obsequious eagerness. The climax was 
that, just as we were setting off again, we heard a 
voice calling out: "Stop, stop, you have forgotten 
me." It was one of our prisoners, who had got down 
while the car was being repaired and whom we had not 
missed. 

That same day, the ioth of September, I had two 
more big fights, and was able to advance as far as 
Blauwput, a suburb of Louvain. Unfortunately, this 
cost me the life of Corporal Royer, a very brave man 
who had already had honourable mention in his 
Division. In the afternoon, we had the Pellenberg 
fight, where the violent resistance of the German 
Marine Fusiliers stopped our progress. 

Until we reached the Yser, my car was engaged on 
an average three times a day. It would be impossible 
to tell of all our skirmishes, so I will only give the 
most interesting episodes. 

On the 27th of September, at Alost, my car was 
sheltering in the little street of the Morseel bridge, 
behind a barricade made of herring barrels. We had 
to wait there and could see nothing, whilst shells 
were falling all round us. Suddenly, a projectile fell 
right on the barricade and filled our car with herrings. 
It was a perfect infection, and never had our nostrils 
been poisoned by any odour as disagreeable as that. 
Whilst we were raging and holding our noses, a tall 
American fellow came up with a cinematograph photo 
apparatus. 

"Captain," he said, "I am the operator of an 
American Cinematograph Company. May I have 
the honour of taking views of your motor-car in 



The No. 7 Armoured Car 165 

fighting position?" We had scarcely recovered from 
our amazement, when a shell dropped on a neighbour- 
ing house, which immediately fell on us and on the 
American, in the midst of a cloud of dust and a frightful 
noise. With the most superb calmness, Berlaymont 
called to me: "Look out, it is always a good thing to 
notice the objective/' He got up and began search- 
ing for the objective. Just at this moment, we saw 
the Cinema American, who had stepped back a few 
yards and, with his apparatus still on its three feet, 
was taking views phlegmatically. 

Between eleven o'clock and twelve, we received or- 
ders to fall back one hundred yards, in order to support 
the platoon of the 5th Lancers, under the command 
of Lieutenant van den Elschen. It was entrenched 
behind a barricade of tan bales. Our enemies were 
not visible and we were only aware of their presence 
by the arrival of shells. One of these projectiles 
broke in the window of the Delhaize grocery shop. 
It was most providential for us, as it allowed us to 
lunch copiously on the verandah, free of charge, with 
a musical accompaniment, composed of the latest 
tango airs, played on the piano by Lieutenant 
Poncelet. Things went on very well until another 
shell knocked down a chimney. As this fell on the 
verandah, we had to move from there. We returned 
to our barricade and found the Cinema operator 
getting our horsemen to rehearse a "Defence of 
Alost." "I have only taken a bombardment, so 
far," he explained, " and I should like to get a real 
fight." 

Amused at this idea, the officers allowed him to 
direct operations. Commanded in nigger French, 
our horsemen first repulsed an imaginary attack of 



1 66 Brave Belgians 

the enemy, by fire, and then executed a brilliant 
counter-attack. Victims were now wanted. 

"Some dead men now, the ground must be strewn 
with corpses," ordered the American. 

The excitement of the troops was such, though, 
that he had to repeat his injunctions, in order to 
keep the corpses lying still on the ground until the 
film had finished turning. These views appeared in 
the Daily Mirror, of October i, 19 14, under the title 
of "The Defence of Alost, " and have been given 
in all the London Cinemas. My readers may, per- 
haps, see them later on on the screen at Brussels. 
They will know then that, of the whole story, only 
the bombardment was authentic. 

On the 6th of October, our motor-car came very 
near having a fine feat of arms to its credit. At 
Schoonaerde, on the road from Wetteren to Termonde, 
the Germans had placed a battery of field Howitzers, 
which was bombarding our trenches on the left bank 
of the Escaut. The armoured car 7 and the Lancers 
were on observation about two miles away, near 
Wetteren, at the entrance to Wichelen. Between 
Schoonaerde and us, the road was only barred by the 
hamlet of Bohemen, which was weakly guarded by 
the enemy. We decided to attempt a big venture. 
Whilst Berlaymont, the man who feared nothing 
went off by the railway line with three sharp-shooters 
to attack Bohemen, I rushed into the hamlet at full 
speed with the motor-car. Some carts had been 
placed in a way to bar the road. Our car knocked 
them over, and we were then within six hundred 
metres of the enemy battery in action. 

My chief gunner, Heureux, opened fire. It was a 
thing to see the way the artillery-men, taken by enfi- 



The No. 7 Armoured Car 167 

lade, came down ! Those who survived, and there were 
very few of them, cut the tethers of the horses, sprang 
on to their backs, and made off. We thought the 
battery was ours, but alas ! it was not. The Belgian 
Artillery saw an armoured car in a place where there 
could only be Boches. It opened a quick fire on 
us. Their shells ploughed up the ground and our 
armoured car was riddled with shrapnel fragments. 
The Belgians aimed too well and we were obliged to 
leave. Half an hour was lost in telephoning to the 
Commander of the Artillery that he was mistaken. 
We rushed into Bohemen again and saw our cannons 
once more. What joy it was ! 

But the Boches had had time to cover them. To 
our right, fifty metres away, the hedge along the rail- 
road was held by sharp-shooters with a machine-gun. 
In front of us, a farm and its kitchen garden on the 
road were also occupied, and we were greeted by a fear- 
ful, direct fire. I gave up my steering wheel, for when 
Berlaymont is not there, I am the only one who can 
drive, and directed the fighting. Handled by Heureux, 
a clever marksman, our machine-gun spit forth what 
was certain death. The firing became weaker from 
every place on which we turned our gun. Suddenly, 
I felt a double shock in my right arm. The Boche 
machine-gun had just presented me with two balls. 
Heaven be thanked, I had seen it though, and Heureux 
silenced it by bringing down its gunners. Suddenly, 
and without ceasing his work, Heureux called out to his 
aid: ''Go on charging, I cannot do any more." 

I looked and saw that his left hand had been torn 
off by a dum-dum ball. I had another terrible shock 
myself, this time in the head. I was conscious of 
falling from the car to the ground . . . and then 



1 68 Brave Belgians 

. . . I knew nothing more. When I came to myself 
I was lying at the bottom of the car, and my gun was 
still fizzling. It was being worked by the second 
gunner. Heureux, who had looked after me until I 
was conscious again, said, quite simply : 

"Now that I have picked you up, it is your turn. 
You must drive the car." It was by no means easy. 
My right arm was useless, and the blood from the 
open wound on my temple half blinded me. As well 
as I could, altering the speed with my right foot, I 
was able to start the car. Under the fire of the 
Boches I had, once more, to overturn the carts they 
had again put in place. 

At Wichelen, Berlaymont joined us again. He was 
furious that we had had an armoured car fight with- 
out him. And whilst the ambulance took Heureux 
and me off, he obtained a reserve machine-gun, 
installed himself in the car, all dripping with blood, 
and went off to kill a score of the Boches who had 
treated his friends in such an evil way. 



CHAPTER XX 

The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat 

By Sub-Lieutenant Henroz. in Command of the ist Company 
of the ist Battalion of the 2nd Regiment of Fortress 
Carabineers 

(September 28-October 10, 1914) 

As the Germans were harassed by the Belgian army 
and uneasy as regarded the flank of their line of 
communication, they decided to take their revenge 
on the Antwerp fortress, which was the refuge of 
our army after each of our offensive operations. 

At the end of September, the enemy had received a 
reinforcement of troops of all kinds of arms, but more 
particularly of siege Artillery and Pioneers, as these 
had been freed by the fall of Maubeuge. 

On the 27th of September, at 7 in the morning, I 
received orders to occupy the trenches with my 
Company and to suspend all work. My Company 
was in the interval of the Dorpveld redoubt and the 
Wavre-St. Catherine Fort. It was supported on the 
right by the Company of the Staff Deputy Captain 
Commander Havenith, who was in command of the 
interval. The Germans, that day, had commenced 
driving back the detachment of the ist Army Division, 
which was holding the front of the line. We knew, 

169 



170 Brave Belgians 

therefore, that they were going to attack us, but we 
were convinced that our positions were absolutely 
inviolable, as we had organised them so carefully 
and they were bristling with engines of warfare of 
every kind. We awaited the first contact, therefore, 
with the greatest confidence. The whole day was 
very calm all around the Fort. A Belgian aeroplane 
was brought down and fell in our lines, near to our 
little post. 

Monday, September 28th. There was every promise 
of a fine day. Far away, in the background, two 
Boche captive balloons went up. They were rocking 
about at the wind's pleasure, in a threatening way. 
We could hear the purring of their motors. Both 
these signs were prophetic of an imminent attack. 
Towards 11 o'clock, a distant whizzing sound was 
heard. This was soon transformed into a thunderous 
roaring, which increased all the time and finished in 
a formidable explosion. Through the trench lookout, 
we could see, at about 150 metres in front of the 
Wavre-St. Catherine Fort, a column of smoke at least 
twenty yards high. It was a 420 millimetre which 
had just exploded. Exactly eleven minutes later, a 
second shell fell, with the same noise, within fifty yards 
of the glacis. Every man was ready, and all eyes 
were fixed on the Fort with anguish. We did not 
have to wait long for the third shell. Eleven minutes 
later it burst, straight on the Fort. . . . 

"Poor Catherine!" said the men. In spite of her 
wounds, though, Catherine continued spitting forth 
her balls. The firing of the 420 continued, at intervals 
of eleven to twelve minutes, the whole of the morning. 
During the afternoon, the firing was still more intense 
and the shells then arrived in salvos of two. Many of 



The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat 171 

them, fortunately for the Fort, missed their mark, but 
the resistance was seriously endangered. The cement- 
ing and the plating had only been calculated in view of 
a bombardment with guns of twenty-one centimetres 
at the most. We frequently saw five or six of the 
artillerymen come out from the earthworks and, 
between two storms, climb quickly on to the Fort 
and fill up the excavations, made by the projectiles, 
with sacks of earth. At the approach of the next 
bolides, they rushed away again as quickly as they 
could. Some of them even, braving the metal mon- 
sters, continued their work. These courageous men 
gave the soldiers in the trenches a fine example of 
heroism. We watched them in amazement and felt 
our own courage increase. The bombardment ceased 
at exactly 4.30 in the afternoon. The cement of the 
Fort was cracked and the passages blocked by the 
sickening odour of the gases. There was no victim 
on either side. The Wavre-St. Catherine Fort had 
received its baptism of fire. 

Tuesday, September 2Qth. The 1st and 2nd Divi- 
sions were now in the 3rd Sector, Waelhem-Lierre ; 
the 3rd and 6th Divisions in the 4th Sector, Waelhem- 
Escaut ; the 4th Division occupied Termonde, and the 
5th formed the general reserve. The bombardment 
began again at daybreak, and very soon the huge 
shells were falling thickly on the Fort. Occasionally, 
one of these masses, badly aimed, burst on the interval. 
It was a regular earthquake. The ground shook and 
it seemed as though the earth were about to open and 
swallow us up. Presently, the firing increased in in- 
tensity. At certain moments, the Fort was cannonaded, 
at a speed of twenty to twenty-five a minute, with 
shells of every calibre. The noise was deafening. 



172 Brave Belgians 

We could scarcely hear each other speak. Everyone 
feared for the Fort and each time that a shell was 
"drunk in" by it, the men murmured: "Poor 
Catherine!" Towards ten o'clock, the firing of 
shrapnels on to the interval commenced. Commander 
Havenith gave me the order to occupy the fighting 
trench, with a section. The remainder of my troop 
took up their quarters in the trench-shelter, about 
fifty yards behind us. 

During this change, a volley of shrapnels fell on the 
communication trench. Four men were very slightly 
wounded, one of whom was Sergeant Claudot, a 
volunteer. We were obliged to evacuate him. Pre- 
sently, it was the turn of the Wavre-St. Catherine 
village to get its share. Several of the volleys made a 
fair number of victims, some of whom were civilians. 
This caused a panic and the people, terrified and wild 
with fear, rushed off taking with them a few of their 
possessions. The women, in tears, dragged their 
little ones along with them, and the children, without 
knowing why, uttered the most heart-rending cries. 
Just as the darkness was coming on, several houses 
were in flames. We were present, and absolutely 
powerless, at this lamentable scene, and we were 
furious at not being able to avenge these unfortunate 
people. On every side, the cannon was thundering. 
The air, saturated with smoke, was bitter, and the 
odour of the powder was suffocating. Gradually, 
everything became calm once more and the sentinels 
went to their posts, just beyond the network of 
barbed wire. Up to the present, our cooking had 
always been done in the trench, by the side of the 
machine-gun shelter. During the bombardment, 
a wretched shell had plunged into the water in 



The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat 173 

which the soup was cooking, and had scattered the 
meat and broth everywhere. As all communication 
with our rear was cut, it was impossible to get fresh 
food. I advised my men to be economical with what 
they still had and, above all, to keep their reserve 
rations at any cost. They were quite calm, unmindful 
of the danger they had run during the day, and they 
did not protest in the least. They went bravely to 
their observation posts, whilst their comrades took a 
little rest. The night passed by without any incident. 
Wednesday, September joth. The Company was still 
occupying the same position. The sun had scarcely 
risen, when the bombarding of the Forts, of the inter- 
val, and of the redoubt began as fresh as ever. A 
reinforcement arrived for me, the 2nd Company of 
the 3rd Battalion of the 6th Line Regiment, which at 
once occupied the shelter trench. More than three 
hundred men were huddled together in this hole. I 
began to fear a 42 dropping on this trench. What a 
horrible carnage it would be ! I trembled to think of 
the danger my men were in. They never even thought 
of this themselves. They were delighted about the 
unexpected reinforcement and their one idea was 
victory. Shells of every calibre were raining down 
from every side, and shell-mines were exploding with 
a frightful noise. The firing was getting more exact 
and reached our parapet. The trench shook, and I 
wondered whether it would fall in. Fragments of the 
shells fell at our feet, and suddenly one shell hit 
the trench. As soon as the smoke was dispersed, 
we saw, with horror, that several men were buried 
under the debris. We could hear them calling 
out and, for the first moment, we all remained 
motionless, riveted to the spot in stupor and horror. 



174 Brave Belgians 

Then several men rushed to the rescue of their com- 
rades. I advanced and saw that our poor Vander 
Stappen had been decapitated. His head lay intact 
at his feet. Three others, one of whom was Sergeant 
Dooms, were seriously wounded. The shells continued 
to arrive in showers. It was frightful! The men 
were lying down on the ground, with their blankets 
over their heads to protect them from the shell frag- 
ments, and in order that they might not see anything. 
A soldier, near me, took out of his pocket-book the 
portrait of his wife and children. There were three 
of them grouped around their mother. During this 
infernal bombardment, the poor man, seeing death so 
near, wanted to see his own family once more. With 
tears in his eyes, he shook his head sadly. I sat down 
by him and, in a few words, I managed to revive his 
courage. He got up suddenly and, shaking his fist 
in the enemy's direction, called out: "Come on then, 
you vile Boches, we shall see whether you are as good 
with the bayonet as with your 42." He had scarcely 
uttered the last word, when a still more formidable 
explosion than all the others made us start. The 
powder room of the Fort had been blown up. Poor 
Catherine! Our Artillery, placed in the intervals, 
although like us subjected to a violent bombardment, 
was answering courageously. Our men were en- 
couraged by this; they felt they were being supported. 
It was now exactly 11.45. A breathless messenger 
arrived and, with a trembling hand, gave me a sealed 
letter. It was an order from the Commander of the 
fortified position of Antwerp. 

11 In spite of the bombardment, no matter how terri- 
ble it may be, you must resist to the uttermost, even 
to death!" Good, we will resist! 



The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat 175 

I dismissed the messenger, a boy of eighteen. 
Without troubling in the least about the shells and 
shrapnels, he hurried back to his post. The Germans 
were still bombarding the Dorpveld redoubt furi- 
ously. A 42 fell on a house near the Fort. Nothing 
was left of it but a heap of ruins, and some of the 
bricks fell into our trench. The hours passed by and 
the day gradually came to an end. In the evening, 
the cannonading was less intense and the soldiers 
took advantage of this to move about and stretch 
their limbs. They were gay, glad to see each other 
again, and to have escaped death. They were also 
awaiting the arrival of the Boches most hopefully. 
The results of the day's combat had been: one killed 
and five wounded. When once the little posts were 
all organised, everyone was on the watch. None 
of the men wanted to rest. They were convinced 
that there would be a night attack and they all wanted 
to be there, in order to fire the first shot, and to re- 
ceive the enemy in a proper way. Contrary to our 
expectation, the night passed by without inci- 
dent, exceot for a few patrols being seen near the 
village. 

Thursday, October 1st. The Company occupied 
the same post. The bombardment, both in the 
intervals and on the positions in the rear, began again 
and was still more terrible than on the preceding days. 
The Boches poured down upon us their projectiles 
of every calibre. Our men remained there un- 
daunted, in spite of showers of shot. The bat- 
teries replied all the time. The Forts alone were 
silent, as they had been completely destroyed. 
The bombardment continued with the most intense 
violence, as though the enemy wanted to crush us 



176 Brave Belgians 

completely, by means of the heavy artillery, against 
which we were, of course, powerless. The noise was 
beyond all description. In less than twenty minutes, 
I counted three men killed and about ten wounded. 
My trench seemed likely to be entirely destroyed and, 
at all costs, it was necessary to repair it. At my 
request, several volunteers came forward and, in 
spite of the bombardment, worked energetically. 
The losses were great, but not a man dreamed of 
budging from his post. The order had come to resist 
to the uttermost, to hold out in spite of everything, 
and we intended to obey. We were resolved to die 
at our posts if necessary. The shells continued 
all the time to rain down on us. In the village of 
Wavre-St. Catherine, the ravages were terrible. The 
whole locality trembled under a continuous roar like 
thunder. It was in this hell that the soldiers entrusted 
with the defence had to hold out. Sub-Lieutenant 
Blanckaert and his gunners were stationed near the 
church. They took shelter as best they could, and one 
of the most imposing sights was their coolness under 
the infernal bombardment. The enemy Artillery, 
with its usual sacrilegious rage, aimed at the 
Church, which was still standing. The steeple was 
just hit and some houses near fell in ruins. From time 
to time, a more formidable explosion was heard, and 
someone would remark simply: "That's another 
42." It was very evident that the enemy was en- 
deavouring to render our positions impossible by the 
intensity of the bombarding, hoping thus to demoralise 
us. In our poor trench, which shook and rocked in a 
way calculated to give us all sea-sickness, the sight 
was terrifying. Each time that a shell of big calibre 
struck it, whole positions gave way, burying together 



The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat 177 

the dead, the wounded, and the living. Two, three, 
and four huge shells a minute fell on it. 

The captain of the 6th Line Regiment, M. Bisschop, 1 
fell at my side, with his shoulder shattered. In 
the trenches, the men held out, in spite of the horrible 
nervous tension, of thirst, of the sight of their com- 
rades cut up, and of the plaintive moans of the 
wounded. Sergeant-Major Demarche was also 
wounded. Our batteries were firing at full speed, 
but they too suffered, as they were sighted by the 
accursed captive balloons. Shrapnels and mine- 
shells burst over our cannons, which were destroyed, 
one after the other. Our brave gunners lay there at 
the side of them. It was horrible! The situation 
grew more and more critical. In the absence of the 
Captain of the 6th Line Regiment, who had been 
evacuated, I had to take command of the trench. 
At exactly 2.30 in the afternoon, we suddenly saw two 
men in the wire network, two hundred yards in front 
of the Fort. They were certainly Boches, but what 
were they doing there, as their own shells were falling 
near them? Three volleys were fired from the trench 
of Captain Commander A. E. M. Havenith. One 
of the Boches fell and got up again. He fell a second 
time, and the other one made off. A quarter of an 
hour later he returned, accompanied by two comrades, 
wearing an armlet and waving a Red Cross flag. 
Not a shot was fired, and the wounded man was 
taken to the German lines. The bombardment con- 
tinued and was only less intense towards nightfall. 
The Commander of the Fort, who had evacuated his 
stronghold, took advantage of the lull to go back to it, 
but it was partly destroyed. The heavy shield of a cu- 

1 In spite of several operations the Captain is still crippled. 



178 Brave Belgians 

pola of fifteen centimetres had completely disappeared, 
and its ruins were also on fire. I had the dead buried, 
and the wounded taken away. Towards five o'clock, I 
received an order from the Commander of the inter- 
val to occupy the fighting trench with the two 
Companies. An attack was expected during the night. 
When once my observation sentinels were at their 
posts, we awaited the arrival of the Germans. We 
took advantage of a moment's lull to eat something. 
The men had nothing left but their last reserve 
rations. We did not know what we should do for 
eatables the following day. The men were very thirsty, 
their throats were parched, and there was no water. 
Some of them found some behind the trench. It 
was rather muddy, but that did not matter, as it 
refreshed them. Guessing that I, too, was thirsty, 
one of the brave fellows offered me his flask. 

"Thanks," I replied, "keep it for to-morrow. I 
am not thirsty." 

"But, Lieutenant, there is sugar with it!!!" he 
insisted. , 

I was just on my way to visit my posts, and had 
scarcely gone twenty steps when a Corporal arrived. 

"Lieutenant," he said, "the Boches are there, 
near the wire." 

I listened and sure enough the bells fastened to the 
wire were tinkling. There was no doubt about it. 
They were there. I gave the command, "Fire!" 
and my men opened a vigorous firing on the wire net- 
work. It was a hellish firing. The bullets cut the 
wire and thousands of sparks were soon flying. The 
redoubt, that everyone believed destroyed, was soon 
aglow like a furnace and sent showers of shot on the 
enemy. My men shouted "Victory!" and were 



The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat 179 

delighted to open fire, but furious at not seeing any 
Boches. The night was as black as ink and we could 
not see two yards in front of us. 

The Germans, surprised in their attack, replied 
energetically, but they fired over us. Three quarters 
of an hour later, all was calm once more. From time 
to time, a few enemy balls fell behind us, as though 
they were aimed at a wall which did not exist. We 
all had the same impression. They were explosive 
bullets. Several patrols were sent to search in the 
neighbourhood. I let half of the men rest. As I had 
scarcely any ammunition left, I sent Sergeant-Major 
Cromphout to ask Captain Commander Havenith 
to let me have some cartridges without fail. I learnt 
afterwards that the Sergeant-Major never arrived. 
What happened to him? Was he killed, or had he 
only disappeared? The night passed by without 
any other event. 

October 2nd. At daybreak, the enemy's heavy 
artillery recommenced its destructive firing. The 
Duffel bridge was attacked by shells of 13 centi- 
metres. More than 250 shells fell on the station in 
less than two hours and a half. The Wavre-St. 
Catherine Fort and the Dorpveld redoubt were 
covered afresh with projectiles. These were the 
preliminaries of an Infantry attack. Towards 645, 
over two hundred men appeared, marching in close 
ranks, on the Malines road and, crossing the fields, 
went at full speed in the direction of the redoubt. 
I at once commanded quick firing. My men aimed 
well and, at two hundred yards' distance, whole ranks 
were mown down. These were quickly replaced by 
others, which, in their turn fell under the firing of 
our Mausers. Suddenly, the whole band stopped 



i8o Brave Belgians 

short and a few men began waving Belgian flags and 
white flags. We could now distinguish their uniforms 
better and we saw that these belonged to our Line 
Regiments. 

"Stop firing they are our men!" called out the 
soldiers. Instead of this, I gave orders to continue 
firing. The Germans had once more violated the 
laws of warfare, by clothing their troops in our uni- 
forms, stolen from our dep6ts. The firing began 
again more violently now than before and, of all these 
troops, only about thirty men reached the redoubt 
and at once hid in the ditches. One of them, who was 
carrying posters, put these up at the top of the re- 
doubt, the inside towards the enemy. I could not 
read signals of this kind. The firing ceased and, 
ten minutes later, one of the posters fell and about 
twenty Germans then made off in the direction of their 
lines. A few seconds later, we heard the mac-mac 
of their machine-guns placed above the redoubt. 
They were turned in our direction and their balls 
pierced our loopholes. Sergeant Chaignot, a vol- 
unteer, who had his gun pointed at one of the 
machine-guns, fell down dead, hit in the forehead. 
This brave boy, who was only just seventeen, was the 
only son of a widow. A short lull enabled me to have 
our wounded men evacuated. 

The enemy now only bombarded our positions in 
the rear. Just when the German Artillery began to 
lengthen its firing range, the enemy Infantry suddenly 
emerged from somewhere, yelling! "Hoch!" They 
rushed towards the Wavre-St. Catherine Fort. I had 
orders to hold out to the uttermost, but, as I was 
turned on my right and had scarcely any cartridges 
left, it was evident that I should be surrounded. To 



The Wavre-St Catherine Combat 181 

the right, Captain-Commander Havenith, who was 
outflanked, was falling back in good order. There 
was no safety for me, therefore, on that side. I saw 
that I should be compelled to beat a retreat in the 
direction of the chapel, some five hundred yards be- 
hind our line. Corporal Deron and about ten men 
remained behind to continue firing until the last soldier 
had left the trench. 

I have to deplore the loss of many victims. The 
accursed machine-guns of the redoubt mowed down 
about twenty of my men. Many of them were 
wounded and, as we could not take them away, they 
remained, unfortunately, in the hands of the Germans. 
When we had reached the post at the chapel, which 
was our second line, I gave orders to occupy the new 
trench. We had not time to do this, as about fifty 
Teutons, whom I had not seen, fired, from their am- 
bush, at our flank and several of my men fell. We 
were compelled to retreat again, leaving our wounded 
behind. We were pursued as far as Poupelaerstraat, 
where, worn out and exhausted, my Company halted 
for a short rest. 

We were all thankful to have escaped the enemy. 
If we had stayed five minutes longer in the trenches, 
we should all have been prisoners. I next went in the 
direction of Elzemtraat, to our concentration spot, 
the Duffel bridge. On entering the village, I met 
Captain-Commander Havenith. He was glad to see 
me again after these terrible days. He congratulated 
me on having held out valiantly with my men during 
the five days of furious bombardment, and on having 
fallen back in good order. During the rest that I 
gave to my men, I found that seventy-five soldiers were 
missing at the general roll-call. They had been killed 



1 82 Brave Belgians 

or wounded, or had disappeared. Two officers only 
remained, First Sergeant Coppens and I. We thought 
we had earned a few days' rest in the rear, but, as 
soon as we had been supplied again with cartridges 
and provisions, we received orders to take up our 
position once more between Wavre-St. Catherine 
and Duffel. 

We were greeted there by a fresh bombardment. 
Outflanked on our right, in the direction of Wael- 
hem, we were obliged to fall back on Duffel. It 
took us some time to pass through this village, as 
it was being bombarded by shells of big calibre. We 
soon received orders to fall back at any cost. We 
went along quickly, crossed the Duffel bridge, which 
was being shelled with absolute frenzy. We rushed 
along like a hurricane and drew up beyond the village, 
without having lost a single man. We were then 
ordered to fall back on Linth, where we arrived in the 
evening. Commander Havenith had received the 
same order. The rest of the regiment was there. I 
was present when the chief of the Corps congratulated 
Sergeant Delobbel on his fine conduct under fire, 
and his bravery during the bombardment. At the 
risk of his own life, he had saved his Commander 
(Commander Van der Minnen), who had been buried 
in the trench. Another feat of this sub-officer de- 
serves to be recorded. His Company was just between 
the Koningshoyckt Fort and the Borsbeek redoubt. 
The gunners of a 75 battery, which supported the 
trench on the left, had left their cannons behind. 
These cannons would be extremely useful against the 
German cannons and the Boche Infantry, which was 
installed only eight hundred yards away from the 
position. 



The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat 183 

Without any hesitation, carried away by his patrio- 
tism, Delobbel, who knew how to handle a cannon, 
offered himself for putting the battery into action 
again. With three men, one of whom was a wounded 
gunner, he went to the battery. All the defences were 
shattered and there was no longer any earthwork to 
count on. Under the direct fire of the Infantry and the 
big cannons, Sergeant Delobbel wanted to begin firing 
at six hundred yards, but unfortunately the gunners 
had unfastened the breeches and other parts before 
leaving. With the straps of their knapsacks, the 
brave fellows improvised what was necessary and 
very soon their cannons opened an infernal fire. 
Unfortunately, exposed to the firing of the Infantry, 
two of the improvised gunners were disabled and a 
fragment of shrapnel killed the third. Two can- 
nons were thus useless, but our sub-officer continued 
alone, and the shells fell fast on the Boches. Very 
soon, though, completely exhausted, fired at fiercely 
from ambush and his last cannon destroyed, he was 
obliged to burrow, and it was impossible for him to 
return to the trench until the evening. Needless to 
describe the welcome he received there! 



CHAPTER XXI 
The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort 

By an Officer of the Garrison 

No harvest of impressions will be found in this 
account, for, although it might seem that the garrison 
of a Fort must be crowded together within the narrow 
surface occupied by the building, it is in reality dis- 
persed everywhere: three men here, ten there, in the 
cupolas, in the munition stores, at the observation 
posts. Each man is in his special department and the 
contact is much less close than among the troops in 
campaign. 

When, on account of the destruction of certain 
parts of the Fort, the garrison comes gradually nearer 
together, the moral tension, the lack of sleep, the 
irregularity of the alimentation transform the garri- 
son into a passive troop under an avalanche of blows. 
The men are still capable of reaction and of desperate 
efforts, but the efforts are silent and, as it were, 
mechanical. Those who have never lived through 
such hours can never know the intensity of the suffer- 
ing endured by the defenders of the Fort. 

September 27, 1914. The cannon is roaring in the 
distance and appears to be coming nearer. We can 

184 



The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort 185 

hear Waelhem and Wavre-St. Catherine firing quite 
distinctly. Huge tufts of white smoke rise above 
the trees in the distance. The Malines Tower has 
disappeared entirely in the smoke. 

For the last few days, every man has been at his 
post. German troops, probably on patrol, have been 
signalled to us by our watchers, at a distance of more 
than 8500 yards from the Fort. They are too far 
away for us to do anything. The attack is imminent. 

Our men are resolute and their one wish is to open 
fire. 

The day and night have passed without any incident. 

September 28th. The morning has been calm for us. 
The cannon is roaring all the time. Our telephonic 
communications inform us that Waelhem and Wavre- 
St. Catherine are being bombarded violently. At two 
in the afternoon, our observation posts signal to us 
the occupation, by enemy groups, of localities within 
our radius of action. The cupolas "of fifteen centi- 
metres open fire and will continue until evening. 

The first firing of our cannon was a veritable relief. 
The nervous tension, caused by waiting, is over, and 
the whole Fort is gay and animated. 

At 8 o'clock, bombardment by the Forts of the 
agglomerations along the Aerschot road, where we 
had been informed that the enemy was quartered. 

There has been no reply from the enemy. 

The aviation had informed us of the construction of 
siege batteries within our defence sector. We could 
do nothing against them, on account of the distance. 

September 2gth. With the exception of our firing 
yesterday, all has been calm. 

At 7.30 this morning, characteristic whizzing sounds 
warned us that shells were passing over the Fort. 



1 86 Brave Belgians 

The explosions took place a long way off, probably 
at Lierre. The screen of trees hides the town from 
us. By telephone, we heard that shells were falling at 
the gates of Louvain. Before long, it was our turn. 
Shrapnels came first, and their strident, metallic explo- 
sion surprised our men. Presently shells burst on 
the masonry of the barracks. Our T. S. F. antenna 
is cut. This is the first phase of our isolation. We 
are replying vigorously to the enemy's fire. 

At ii o'clock, suspension of the firing. The men 
brought into the firing gallery fragments of shells and 
shrapnels, bullets and fuses. From one of the fuses, 
we found that the measurement of the Germans is at 
5200 yards, which is the average of our own measure- 
ment on the batteries indicated. 

At 2 o'clock, the firing on both sides began again. 
We received projectiles of 13 centimetres by 5, one of 
which had fused and came rolling in front of our office. 
The town of Lierre was still being bombarded and we 
were informed that the civil hospital had been struck 
and that eight persons had been killed. 

At 5 o'clock, suspension of the firing. At 7.30, 
renewal which did not last long and was not very 
efficacious. 

With all this the Fort has not suffered much. 
There are a number of holes, chiefly in the barracks 
masonry, above which simili-cupolas had been installed. 
A cupola of fifteen centimetres had been grazed 
and a few window-panes broken. All is well and the 
spirits of the men excellent. They 4 are getting bolder 
and bolder and we are compelled to stop them 
moving about in the open. 

Sixty-four shells have struck the Fort. We learned, 
by telephone, in the evening, that Wavre-St. Catherine 



The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort 187 

Fort, shattered by formidable shells, had been evacu- 
ated. We have heard nothing about the Waelhem 
Fort. It has no doubt met with the same fate. 
This sad news was only announced to the officers. 

At 1 1 .30, an observer -warned us of the approach of a 
column by the Aerschot road. We accordingly fired 
on this road and the land around until about 1.30. 

September joth. At 3.40, a grouping of enemy troops 
was announced to us beyond the village of Konings- 
hoyckt. At the same time the Fort of that name and 
the Tallaert redoubt, which were both being attacked, 
appealed for support to the Lierre Fort. Acting 
on information from them, and with the aid of their 
interval observatories, we opened fire which con- 
tinued until 6 o'clock. There was no sleep for any 
one at night, and this will not be the last night of 
the kind. From henceforth there will be no more rest 
for us. 

At 8 o'clock, the bombardment recommenced, not 
only on the Lierre Fort but also on the interval con- 
structions and on the forts and redoubts to our 
right. A few shrapnels came first, and then a deluge 
of shells of every calibre. Not a single pane of glass 
could resist this, and the very ground shook under our 
feet. This sensation of springy ground will continue 
for several days after the bombardment. 

At 11 o'clock, utter silence. The interior plat- 
forms are damaged and all circulation within the 
Fort is difficult, but our armament is still in perfect 
condition. 

At 12.20, there was an ominous whizzing sound 
first, and then a noise like an express train at full 
speed. The projectile fell above the barracks with a 
formidable detonation. After this, a shower of cement 



1 88 Brave Belgians 

and of masonry fell on the whole of the Fort. We 
have just received the first 420 shell. Without inter- 
mittence until 6 o'clock, a similar projectile has 
arrived every six minutes. We have received fifty-seven 
of them in this way. The craters measured from 8 to 
10 metres in diameter. The stoppers were flung 50 
metres up in the air and they came down again like 
fresh projectiles. One of the first of these shells fell 
near us. The lower part, thrown vertically, fell 
on the edge of the crater. Its dimensions were 
remarkable. The fitter was told to go, after the bom- 
bardment and bring this in, in order to weigh and 
measure it. He went off at once, during the bom- 
bardment, and after twenty minutes of effort dragged 
the piece into the office. He was reproved for this 
unnecessary imprudence. The soldier replied simply : 
"But it was not hot!" This piece measured 388 
millimetres in diameter and weighed 66 kilogrammes. 
Other fragments picked up had sharp edges: one of 
them measured 85 centimetres in length. The explo- 
sion produced a black, bitter, and very dense smoke, 
which curled round on the ground and was very slow 
in dispersing. 

The interior telephonic communications are still 
practicable, with the exception of the battery adjoining 
the glacis of the semi-front left gorge. 

The barracks have partially given way and the 
officers' pavilion is cut in two. This does not trouble 
us, as these places were evacuated a few days ago and 
orders were given not to stay in them. From the 
caponier of the front gorge, we were told by tele- 
phone that the vault was cracked and that the stoke 
holes were obstructed by earth, and also by the debris 
of masonry thrown up by the explosions in the immedi- 



The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort 189 

ate vicinity. This was evacuated. As to the cupola of 
fifteen centimetres on the left, we were informed that 
the cuirass of 5 cent. 7 of the salient I. had been thrown 
up in the air and had fallen about twenty yards from 
the tower. A shell had fallen in front of the postern 
entrance, about fifty yards long, and the compression 
of air had caused this damage. A cannon of 8 cent. 7, 
placed for firing at aeroplanes and Zeppelins, had been 
flung from its position, the gun carriage had been 
entirely turned round and one wheel broken. 

When the bombardment ceased, we rushed out to 
see for ourselves what the damages were, whilst our 
cannons continued firing in order to relieve the 
Koningshoyckt Fort, which had several of its pieces 
too much injured to use, and also the Tallaert re- 
doubt, which was threatened with a frontal attack. 

The archways were cracked everywhere and the 
paving-stones were torn up out of the ground, which 
was all furrowed and broken up. Some of the com- 
munication passages were destroyed. The diameter 
of the craters was greater than the distance which 
separated the jambs. These were all weakened and 
the heavy cement arches, deprived of their support, 
were absolutely broken, as though they had been 
hacked by a gigantic blow from an axe. This bom- 
bardment had not disturbed the equanimity of the 
soldiers much. 

When the masonry or the cement was struck, a 
shower of bricks and of shingle covered the Fort, 
pouring through all the openings violently. The first 
time this happened, two men who were at the entrance 
of a postern were bruised by the shingles. A jocular 
man remarked : ' ' Good, now they are putting pebbles 
in their shells!" 



190 Brave Belgians 

We heard groans though from the barrack ruins, 
and we dragged out one wounded man and two who 
had been killed. They were civilian workmen who 
had come there to install loud-speaking telephones. 

The wounded man told us that two or three men, 
one of whom was a soldier, were under the ruins of 
what had served as a mess-room for the troop. It 
was impossible to get them out from under the heaps 
of ruins. 

The battery of the glacis was destroyed by two 
projectiles. We found neither dead nor living men 
there. What had become of the gunners? All was 
not lost, however, as, with the exception of the cupola 
of 5 cent. 7 of salient I. all our defence works are still 
in good condition and our men do not manifest any 
anxiety. 

October 1st. In obedience to orders from our 
chief, and together with the neighbouring forts and 
the interval batteries, we opened a rapid fire of twenty 
minutes' duration, at 2 and at 4 o'clock, on the locali- 
ties and the roads in front of our line of defence. 

At 7 o'clock we buried our dead. 

From 8 o'clock, the intervals, the Koningshoyckt 
Fort and the Tallaert redoubt were actively bom- 
barded. Our turn did not come until 10.15. Only 
nine projectiles were sent to us. 

At 1 o'clock the bombardment began again and, as 
on the previous day, a shell came every six minutes. 

Towards 3 o'clock, the semi-caponier on the 
right was hit. The aim had been shortened, as the 
firing had hitherto generally been directed at the left 
half of the Fort. Most of the men had taken refuge 
in the right half. On this account, no one was 
wounded, but the fifteen centimetre cupola was disabled 



The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort 191 

by the blocks of cement coming from the half de- 
molished tower. Some of these blocks measured 
nearly a cubic yard. The men were quickly evacuated 
to the front. 

A gunner, bringing information bulletins, now 
arrived all covered with mud. As the cupolas had 
been covered with soaked earth, the men thought that 
he must have taken this covering off by crawling 
over the cupola, and his comrades blamed him for 
this. The good fellow was surprised at their accusa- 
tion, as he had simply rolled into a crater under the 
firing, and this was why he was in such a muddy 
state. 

The bombardment continued and we saw that our 
intact shelters were becoming fewer and fewer. The 
Artillery Commander fell into a crater. He could 
not walk and had to be taken to the Infirmary. 
The Commander of the Fusiliers, overworked and 
intoxicated by the gas from the explosions, was ill 
and one of the doctors was ill too. The influence of 
the gases became more and more distressing. Some 
of the men had fainting fits, others wept. Certain of 
them were depressed and seemed to be awaiting the 
shell which should finish them off. Neither persua- 
sions nor threats from the Commander of the Fort, 
aided by the doctor and the chaplain, took any effect 
on these men, who were awaiting death like irresponsi- 
ble cattle. 

Towards 7.30 in the evening, this infernal bom- 
bardment slackened and very soon it ceased. The 
Fort had received 60 of the terrible 420 shells. The 
Commander of the Lierre-Tallaert interval announced 
an attack by the enemy Infantry supported by field 
Artillery. 



192 Brave Belgians 

The men pulled themselves together, the cupolas 
were occupied, and the firing line filled with machine- 
gunners and Fusiliers. The Tallaert redoubt could 
not do much and asked for help. 

We fired with all our pieces on to the ground in 
front of the accessory defences of the interval. The 
enemy attack, under our firing, was defeated about 
9 o'clock. All the garrison had taken part in the 
fight, even our invalids. The Commander of the 
Fusiliers went back to his post on the rampart. 

The Fort was once more bombarded and at n 
o'clock, a fresh attack on the interval began, without 
any better result for the enemy than the first one. 

October 2nd. At 2 o'clock, the third attack on the 
interval began. The firing line on the front of 
the Fort head was inundated with cartridges from the 
enemy machine-guns. Our Fusiliers replied with fury. 
Their Commander had the hardest work to regulate 
the firing. The heated guns got choked. No matter, 
our men were determined the Germans should not 
pass. Our cannons fired at full speed. The noise 
was deafening. For more than two hours, we lived 
in the midst of this hell and we no longer heard the 
enemy's balls which came in swarms whizzing over 
our heads. One of the cannons was disabled by the 
firing. The second one did double work, but before 
long could not keep its place in the battery either. 

At 4.30, we knew by the red fuses, that the enemy 
was retreating. The interval had not been crossed 
and not a single wire of the accessory defences had 
been cut. This success gave our men fresh hope and 
confidence; they were almost joyful. Their fatigue 
was very evident though. As soon as the enemy 
attack was withdrawn, the firing gallery stopped 



The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort 193 

replying to calls. We went to see what was happening 
and found the whole staff asleep. The officer had 
thrown himself down on a mattress, and on getting 
up he staggered with fatigue. There had been a few 
minutes' respite and all the men, not having to keep 
on the alert, had succumbed to their exhaustion. 

The Commander of the Fort himself, a little time 
before, had fallen asleep in a cupola in full action. 

The Commander of the Fort Artillery, who still 
could not walk, was evacuated, together with another 
wounded man. Food was then distributed and repairs 
done. The replenishing of the cupolas with ammuni- 
tion was effected, thanks to the covered passages that 
were still intact. 

At 7.20 the bombardment began once more. Enemy 
aeroplanes had been to see the state of the Fort, and 
the destruction then became systematic. Every six 
minutes a 420 projectile arrived — "the block train," 
as the men called it. We watched the progress of the 
bombardment with great anxiety. 

The projectiles could be heard from afar, and they 

struck first the left and then the right of the Fort. 

The flank salients being very close together, the blow 

struck either one or the other of these projections 

indifferently. The soldiers remarked this and made 

bets as soon as the sound of the projectiles was heard 

in the distance. The salient I. was well sprinkled 

first and then the firing was on the front. The 

covered passage to the right of the front gave way. 

It was by this that the ammunition supply for the 

cupolas was effected. How many men were under 

the ruins? A roll-call was impossible. We had to 

evacuate part of the front, and half of the staff had 

to take refuge in the semi-caponier on the right. 
13 



194 Brave Belgians 

All telephonic and telegraphic communication was cut 
off. The Lierre office no longer replied, as the town 
had been evacuated. 

The firing now approached the right semi-capo- 
nier, and a shell burst fifteen yards from the entrance. 

The men were ordered to keep at the other side of 
the Fort, which was no longer bombarded. It was 
impossible to warn those who had remained at the 
front caponier. The explosions continued every six 
minutes, and the bombardment was carried on sys- 
tematically by series, and in an invariable manner. 
By observing where the projectiles fell, we could 
calculate just the moment when it would be time to 
move away. The first firing of a series was danger- 
ous for us. As soon as the explosions followed each 
other too quickly, the men collected together, as 
soon as they heard the whizzing, waited for the 
projectile to fall, and then rushed off to their fresh 
shelter. 

This game could not, however, continue very long. 
The projectiles seemed to be following us, and the 
arches gave way one after another after we had left 
them. 

Towards 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the order was 
given to the Commander of the Fusiliers to collect his 
men in groups and to send them, in the intervals 
between the firing, to the postern gate of the Fort, 
which, so far, was intact. The order was carried 
out and we were able to pass, in the most miraculous 
way, between the projectiles. The firing now con- 
tinued for some time on the left part of the Fort 
and the men grouped themselves on the berm in the 
space which separates the parapet from the moat 
against the outside talus of the semi-front of the right 



The Death-Struggle of Lierre Fort 195 

gorge. Just at that moment the two hundred and 
thirty-fifth 420 shell fell on the Fort. 

With the exception of the danger from the pieces 
of masonry and from the explosions, which did not 
injure any one seriously, we were fairly safe. Towards 
noon, the projectiles came more frequently and the 
men who were under the entrance postern and in 
the guard-room were called inside. All the defence 
works were by this time either destroyed or of no use. 
The corridors and posterns were obstructed by huge 
blocks of masonry. The cupola of 5 centimetres 7 of 
salient IV. was the only one which appeared to be in 
good condition, but it was impossible to get to it. 
The garrison's last shelter was now threatened in its 
turn. A projectile burst on the edge of the moat, a 
few yards beyond the entrance to the Fort, and this 
caused a moment's panic. The bombardment con- 
tinued, making it impossible for us to reoccupy the 
building. At 2.30, a formidable detonation and a 
dense smoke made us presume that the Koningshoyckt 
Fort had just been blown up. 

We saw that the firing of our field-batteries, which 
were in position at the back of us, had shortened their 
aim, in order to cover the retreat of the troops in the 
intervals. Their shrapnels burst just at the height 
where we were stationed. German batteries were 
now placed to the right of the Fort, so that we were 
caught between two fires. 

It was not possible for us to re-enter the ruined 
Fort. The 420 shells continued to fall on it every 
six minutes with hopeless regularity. Our reserve 
rations and cartridges were buried under the 
ruins. There was no more drinking water, the guns 
were empty, and the men starving with hunger. 



196 Brave Belgians 

There was, perhaps, just time to prevent ourselves 
from being surrounded. We had to make the attempt 
under a deluge of shrapnels. The men were worn 
out, and it was with a feeling of intense sadness and 
discouragement that, at 6 o'clock, the officers decided 
to take them toward Lierre. The defence had 
lasted four interminable days, under a bombardment 
which allowed of no rest and which prevented our 
relieving each other. Counting beforehand on the 
demoralising effects of their terrible engines of war- 
fare, the Germans had imagined that on the night of 
the 1st to the 2nd of October, a strong attack would 
make them masters of the Fort. 

Their three attempts at assault were so many failures 
for them. When, twenty-four hours later, they 
actually entered the Fort, it was merely a heap 
of ruins which fell into their hands. 

Fighting is nothing if only one can return the blows 
one receives. The range of the enemy's Artillery was 
considerably beyond ours, so that they were pro- 
tected from our firing. We were obliged to wait, 
with folded arms, until Death saw fit to take us. 

This waiting, in a dark passage of masonry, which 
one knows is doomed to be destroyed and which every 
six minutes is in danger of being dashed to pieces by 
the projectiles that one hears coming, means enduring 
the agony of death over and over again. 

Such an experience acts on the best tempered 
nerves, and the heroism of those who awaited death 
there, simply because they had been ordered to do so, 
was all the more admirable because it was simple, 
unobtrusive heroism, about which the world has 
hitherto never known. 



CHAPTER XXII 
Prisoner in the Soltau Camp 

From the Account Given by Amand Hasevoets, First 
Sergeant of the Regiment of Fortress Grenadiers 

I belonged to a Company of the Fortress Grena- 
diers' Regiment. We occupied the interval between 
the Kessel and Broechem Forts when, on the 4th of 
October, 1914, the bombardment commenced. The 
Germans began with shrapnels for regulating their 
firing, and then, at intervals from five to ten minutes, 
they sent their shells on to Broechem. According 
to whether the projectile fell into the sand, into the 
moat, or on to the cement, a yellow, black, or white 
sheaf rose ten yards high in the air. 

Towards evening, we received orders to protect a 
column of soldiers belonging to the Engineers, whose 
mission was to destroy the bridges over the Nethe. 
Hidden in the fields, we saw figures gliding along by 
the river. In the darkness of the night, there were 
five immense glows and five detonations. The bridges 
had been blown up at Broechem, the cannonading 
slackened, and flames surrounded the Fort. 

We fell back on the second line of defence. We 
passed through Wyneghem, Burght, and Zwyndrecht, 
where the regiment rejoined us. The soldiers who 

197 



198 Brave Belgians 

had marched about thirty-seven miles, and for weeks 
had had no other beds than the trenches, were worn 
out. They had scarcely piled arms when most of 
them were stretched out on the pavement. The 
inhabitants, from the thresholds of their houses, looked 
at the Grenadiers with curiosity mingled with fear. 
What had these troops come to do here? The sight 
of a few coins reassured them, and very soon a care- 
fully prepared little meal was ready in every house. 
The following day, we continued our retreat by the St. 
Nicholas road. The cannon was roaring and the 
ground trembling under a rain of shells, which inter- 
rupted our march and obliged us to await the end of 
the storm lying down among the beet-root, or turnip 
plants. 

At Beveren-Waes, the Colonel called the officers 
together and talked to them for a long time. They 
came back to us gloomy and discouraged. 

"We are surrounded," they said, "by an enemy 
of overpoweringly superior numbers. All resistance 
would be useless. Our last and only resource is to get 
toHolland. ,, 

Desperate, and with tears in their eyes, the soldiers 
talked in low voices to each other, giving utterance 
to their opinions. 

"Fancy being shut up there without having fought, 
without having seen the enemy! How humiliating!" 

The regiment, however, was soon on the way to- 
wards Clinge and, in the midst of a heavy fog, made a 
passage along the road which was encumbered with 
carts and vehicles of every kind, in the midst of a 
distracted population in flight. The soldiers thought 
sadly of their departure from Brussels two months 
ago, of the enthusiasm, the pride and confidence 



Prisoner in the Soltau Camp 199 

which they had felt, as they set out, on a bright sunny 
day, singing as they went along the Wavre road, amid 
the cheers and applause of the crowd. 

On approaching the frontier, the men threw down 
their guns, cartridge cases, and bags. For several 
miles the ground was strewn with articles of equip- 
ment. This sight roused my indignation. 

"No," I exclaimed, "whatever happens, lam not 
going to Holland!" I picked up some cartridges and 
stuffed all my pockets with them, and whilst my 
comrades crossed the frontier, I went with big strides 
towards the Lokeren road. 

I have no idea how long a time I walked, for I was 
like a madman. At every instant, patrols appeared 
on whom I fired. Auto-machine-guns passed along 
at full speed and, hidden in a ditch, scarcely daring 
to breathe, I waited until these terrible engines of 
warfare had disappeared. By incredible luck, escap- 
ing all kinds of danger, I reached the suburbs of 
Lokeren. Peasants were working peacefully in the 
fields. I approached them and asked whether there 
were any Prussians in the town. 

" More than 100,000, " was the reply. 

"Where can I find some civilian's clothes?" I 
asked. 

"Over yonder, in that farm. They will probably 
give you some." 

I entered the farm and, after a little discussion, I 
obtained some clothes for fifteen francs, which I at 
once put on. After burying my gun and my uniform, 
emboldened by my disguise, I advanced fearlessly 
along the Lokeren road. 

"Who goes there?" I heard someone call out. 

"An inhabitant of Lokeren, " I answered. 



200 Brave Belgians 

"Hands up!" 

I obeyed. 

"Advance!" 

I obeyed again. I had happened upon a Bavarian 
patrol hidden behind the trees on the road. I was 
questioned briefly and then taken to join a hundred 
and fifty civilians in hiding along the hedge. After 
waiting for an hour, as the mouse-trap did not catch 
any fresh victim, the commanding officer, a Lieu- 
tenant, addressed us. 

"As you are peaceable citizens, I am going to have 
you taken back to the town." 

We set out escorted by Bavarian soldiers. Near the 
bridge over the Durme, a Lieutenant, stationed in 
front of a manufactory, was awaiting us. 

"Come in here!" he said. We entered and, inside 
the courtyard, we saw piles of uniforms belonging to 
the Belgian Engineers. We were ordered to put them 
on. I went to the officer and protested. "I am not 
a soldier and I am not going to act this comedy, " I 
said. By way of answering, the Lieutenant seized 
my hands. With a pen-knife he took some of the 
dirt from my nails and smelt it. He then took a little 
bottle, poured some liquid over this dirt, and smelt 
it again. After this, he gave me a blow with his fist. 

"Your hands are not the hands of a labourer, but 
of a soldier," he yelled. "Obey, or you will be shot." 

Under the surveillance of two soldiers, who carefully 
inspected my under linen, I put on the uniform and 
took my place among the Belgian soldiers they 
had thus improvised. Grouped in a column, we 
were triumphantly promenaded through the Lokeren 
streets, and insults and jokes were lavished on us 
by the German soldiery. The parade ended, after a 



Prisoner in the Soltau Camp 201 

mock interrogation, we were taken to a place without 
any egress and obliged to bury a lot of dead horses 
already in a state of decomposition. 

Whilst doing this, I took note of my surroundings 
and I saw, on the right, the entrance to a dark passage. 
Taking advantage of a moment of inattention, I 
slipped into this. It was an ice-house. It was 
intensely dark, but I groped along and crouched down 
behind some blocks of ice, where I spent several 
hours shivering with cold. I could hear the expres- 
sions of disgust uttered by my companions during 
their repulsive task. 

When this was accomplished, a sub-officer took it 
into his head to count the men. 

"There is one missing, " he remarked. 

One of us, a wretched spy, denounced me. 

"He is in the ice-house, " he said. 

The Germans entered, discovered me, and literally 
kicked me out. No one can imagine my state of fury 
and rage. If only any of these wretches ever fall into 
my hands, they will have no time to feel bored, for I 
am reserving for them a little fete of my own invention. 
On Tuesday, eight hundred English soldiers and 
three hundred Belgian soldiers were added to our 
number. They were real soldiers this time. As some 
of the Belgian ones were in civilian dress, I made an 
arrangement with one of them to change my uniform 
for his clothes. It would be more easy in this way to 
play my part as a citizen. 

The following day, escorted by Bavarians, we set 
out on foot and were taken to Termonde, a march of 
about twelve miles. The walk was very painful, as 
our only food was the turnips that the soldiers gathered 
in the fields and threw to us. 



202 Brave Belgians 

Termonde was frightful to behold. In the midst of 
the houses which had been burned down were drunken 
sailors, holding bottles of wine under their arms, 
while they pillaged, saccaged, and turned out every- 
thing. In one of the streets, the Burgomaster of 
Waesmunster stopped us and, thanks to his protesta- 
tions, obtained the liberation of the inhabitants of his 
commune. I saw an officer dressed as a Belgian and 
asked him to intervene in my favour, pleading that 
I was a civilian. The Belgian officer immediately 
spoke to the Commander of the convoy, who replied 
in excellent French: 

"We have received orders to arrest the civilians 
in the districts where our troops have been fired on. 
If I gave this man his liberty, he would be arrested 
again before he had gone five hundred yards. Come 
and speak to me at Schaerbeck and I will see." At 
7 o'clock in the evening, we were taken to the station, 
counted, given a plate of soup, and then huddled into 
cattle trucks, upon which was a thick layer of manure. 
In each truck were thirty-six Belgians and four 
Bavarian soldiers. We then started in a broken- 
winded train ! It advanced slowly, puffing, whistling, 
and stopping every minute. Very soon our keepers 
began to talk to us. They showed us their blue and 
white cockades proudly. 

"Queen Elisabeth is Bavarian, too," they said. 
"She is a noble woman and will be an example for 
the Belgians. We admire her and respect her." 

In other ways, too, they expressed their sympathy 
with the Belgian nation. Taking advantage of all 
this I asked one of them to open the door, so that we 
could have a last look at our country. He consented 
and, whilst my eyes were fixed on the pasture ground 



Prisoner in the Soltau Camp 203 

full of cattle, the golden harvest fields, with red-roofed 
farms here and there, looking so gay and cheerful 
under the setting sun, I, crouching down on the 
manure, in the warm, infected atmosphere, with 
insects worrying us, made a fresh plan of escape. 

Presently all was silent and the Bavarians were 
dozing. Outside there were no troops in sight. 
Sentinels posted from one half-mile to another kept 
watch over the railway line. We were within sight 
of Zellick and there was the race-course. It seemed 
to be a propitious moment. I opened the door cau- 
tiously and prepared to jump out. Just then a voice 
called out: "What fool has opened the door, letting 
in the cold?" 

The four Bavarians sprang to their feet, cursing 
and swearing. They distributed a few blows among 
us with the butt ends of their guns. Our train passed 
through Brussels, creeping along like a tortoise and, 
at five in the afternoon, reached Liege. 

Our arrival was announced, and the population, 
massed around the station and in the neighbouring 
streets, cheered us and threw us bread, chocolate, 
tobacco, and other things and called out, "Is Antwerp 
taken ? ' ' On our reply in the affirmative, they groaned : 
"Oh, God, what a misfortune!" 

It can readily be imagined how thankful we were for 
the food thrown to us. Since the day before, we had 
had nothing to eat or to drink. Our hunger touched 
the Bavarians who allowed us to get down on the line 
and pick up the gifts strewn all about. For the men 
of our truck, we had a loaf weighing about two pounds, 
a tablet of chocolate, and four bottles of wine. All 
this divided by thirty-six did not allow of big portions, 
but the sight of the courageous Liegeois city and the 



204 Brave Belgians 

cordial welcome of its inhabitants had comforted 
us. After the meal, when two cigarettes each were 
allotted to us, we felt as though we had just had a 
king's feast. A little emboldened, I went up to a 
German officer who had a kindly look and introduced 
myself to him as an inoffensive pastry cook of Brussels, 
who had gone to Flanders to buy butter more cheaply, 
and was a victim of a frightful mistake. I was elo- 
quent and persuasive in my arguments. "You are 
free," the officer said at last; "ask for a ticket for 
Brussels." 

Intoxicated with joy, I rushed to the office of the 
military superintendent of the station. He was a big 
fellow, with a head like a bull-dog's. He did not 
trouble to listen, but gave me a blow with his fist on 
my head, another on the back of my neck, and has- 
tened my departure from his office by a formidable 
kick. 

On leaving Liege, we had to travel in absolute 
darkness. At Herbesthal, a dummy hanging from a 
stake, and dressed up in the full military dress of a 
Belgian artilleryman, caused laughter, in which our 
Bavarian keepers joined. Without stopping, we 
continued our way as far as Dusselheite. In a shed 
near the station, we were allowed to wash. It is 
impossible to give an idea of our filth. Our faces 
were smudged with dirt and filth of all kinds, our hair 
was tangled and full of straw, our clothes were dirty. 
Each one of us, looking at his neighbour, said to him- 
self: "What a dirty creature!" Thanks to some 
soap and water, after brushing and scraping ourselves, 
we once more looked like human beings. We drank 
a bowl of soup, devoured three sausages, and set off 
once more on our way. We passed by stations, went 



Prisoner in the Soltau Camp 205 

over bridges, level crossings, and under tunnels. Fre- 
quently we met trains rilled with German soldiers, 
who shook their fists and shouted their insults. 

We did not reply, but our eyes spoke for us and our 
hatred could be read in them. Our apparently inter- 
minable journey came to an end finally and, on 
October i6th, at 11 o'clock at night, after sixty-four 
hours of travelling, we arrived at Soltau. At the 
station, we were divided into two groups, soldiers 
and civilians, and were sent to the riding-school. 
We had to pass through a crowd more curious than 
hostile. When we reached the building, a sub-officer, 
with the word "Gibraltar" on his uniform, told 
us to go in. We entered and found it full. Without 
being disturbed in the least, "Gibraltar" struck out 
right and left, yelling: "Here, there's room enough 
here for a pig." We lay down on the ground and 
slept like brutes. 

The next day, I discovered that the circus contained 
1400 civilian prisoners, of ages varying from eight to 
eighty-four. Among them were the Catholic priests 
of Lebbeke and of Sommeleuze, the chaplain of the 

Termonde Orphanage, the notary of , Abbe Bilaers, 

etc. All the ecclesiastics had been compelled to dress 
as laymen, as the sight of the cassock excited the 
soldiers' anger. They drove the priests along with 
their bayonets, shouting: "Dogs, pigs, you pray in 
church and you shoot in the street!" With the 
exception of "Gibraltar," the soldiers on guard did 
not ill-treat us. They shouted, swore, and threatened, 
but they rarely struck any of us. Very strict rules 
were imposed on us and any infraction was punished 
by prison or by the stake. This latter punishment 
consisted of fastening the guilty man to one of the 



206 Brave Belgians 

upright pillars of the circus. He had to stand there 
for twelve hours, and this was excessively painful. 
As for our food, we had coffee in the morning, soup 
at noon, and in the evening, and every third day a 
loaf of bread of 1500 grammes. This alimentation 
was wholesome, but insufficient. As I had a little 
money, I was able to get some extra food, but those 
of my companions who had used up their money were 
reduced to devouring the scraps that their keepers 
left them. It was a heartrending sight to see rich, 
educated men, who held high posts in our country, 
seizing the tins containing the leavings of the German 
soldiers and eating these scraps gladly. 

Our number decreased, as the children under 
fourteen were sent back to Brussels and the ecclesias- 
tics to Selb. Finally, on the 26th of October, all the 
remaining prisoners were sent to the camp at Soltau. 

Situated in the midst of the Lunebourg fir-tree woods, 
this camp looked very cheerful. The installations 
occupied a vast space and consisted of 96 wooden 
sheds, 150 yards long, and 12 wide, covered with 
bituminated pasteboard and provided with electricity 
and central heating. Each shed, beside the work- 
rooms and baths, had six dormitories, all built alike. 
On the floor, which was raised saddle-back fashion, 
were straw sacks filled with vegetal fibre, which 
generally harbours vermin in quantities. Against 
the outer wall were shelves, upon which each man 
could keep his clothes and toilette affairs. The 
discipline was strict, the food wholesome and scanty, 
and work obligatory. Seated on benches, we spent 
our days plaiting straw bags. Our fingers were numb 
with cold, as the central heating apparatus was never 
used. My hands were stiff and rigid with rheumatism, 



Prisoner in the Soltau Camp 207 

and very soon I could do no more work. I sat there 
for long, weary hours idle, gazing out blankly, thinking 
of my wife and children, and of my country, that I 
should probably never see again. 

On the 10th of January, the Flemish were separated 
from the Walloons, and on the 25th of the same month 
we were told, to our delight, that the Flemish were 
to be sent back to their country. Our joy can be 
imagined. We began shouting and dancing and 
then, suddenly ashamed of ourselves, we were silent. 
Our unfortunate Walloon companions were weeping 
bitter tears. We endeavoured to encourage them, 
we assured them that they would soon be freed and, 
in their presence, we hid our joy as much as possible. 
Whatever may have been our social differences, and 
our differences of opinion, the suffering we had en- 
dured together had created a strong bond of friend- 
ship between us, and it was with a pang at our hearts 
that we left them when the time came to start. 

We were 2800 in number and we left on the 28th, 
at ten in the morning. We reached Schaerbeek on the 
29th, at nine in the evening, and were set free on the 
30th of January, at eleven in the morning. 

I rushed off immediately, in the direction of my 
home. Joyful, and with a light heart, I hurried along 
the familiar streets. As I arrived nearer and nearer, 
my eyes became dim and my legs felt as though they 
would give way. When once I saw the house, with its 
shop window full of tempting cakes, just as when I 
had left it, my heart seemed to give a bound within 
my breast and I suddenly felt weak and had to lean 
against the wall. What joy it was to see my dear 
wife and children once more. 

Alas, the joy was not of long duration. I could 



208 Brave Belgians 

not forget that our country was in danger, and I could 
not desert the brave comrades who were doing glorious 
deeds on the banks of the Yser. 

In spite of the entreaties of my wife and the tears of 
my children, I made my way, a few days later, to the 
frontier and rejoined the army. 



CHAPTER XXHI 
The Last Fragments of Antwerp 

By Artillery Captain M C 

The Retreat 

We were approaching the frontier 

Behind those trees, five hundred yards away, was 
Holland, the boundary of our country. To cross that 
frontier meant the end for the time being of our resist- 
ance. . . . What would be done with us there? Would 
they — ? Ah no, at that idea, my whole soul revolted 
and strengthened me against the force of things. 
Cross that frontier? Never! And once more the 
idea which had come into my mind, and taken posses- 
sion of me ever since leaving Antwerp, became imperi- 
ous: "Join the King once more or — die." Good, 
this time I felt ready to risk everything. 

Confusion reigned supreme. Everything seemed 
to be mixed up in inextricable disorder. In the 
narrow streets of this frontier village, men of all 
kinds of arms, belonging to every different unit, were 
gathered together pele-mele. The retreat had brought 
them all here together to this spot. Soldiers were 
looking for their chiefs, officers were looking for their 
troops and, whilst trying to bring some kind of order 
14 209 



210 Brave Belgians 

into the chaos, they were hindered by carts and vehicles 
of all sorts, the drivers of which were endeavouring to 
make a way for themselves through the seething 
crowds. I had never felt, until this moment, all the 
horror of the defeat and the strange impotence of the 
army that has experienced it. 

These lamentable fragments were all that remained 
of the Antwerp garrison. Assailed on all sides in 
the last redoubt of the fortified place, they had held 
out against the victorious enemy to the very end. 
The cannons, dragged along for miles by the men 
themselves, had been turned round and pointed 
backwards, on the city from which the Germans were 
already coming. Then the retreat had taken place, 
the interminable, exhausting retreat, when, in order 
to avoid being surrounded, we had marched, without 
halt, in the dust and heat of the sun, half dead with 
hunger and parched with thirst, the enemy harassing 
our flanks and threatening to cut us off all the time. 

At present, we were here, at the frontier, and 
were in the position of an army in a blind alley. 
The darkness came on and we were surrounded by 
the enemy. We had been without food for two or 
three days. The men were dazed and bewildered by 
the commotion and could no longer hear the orders 
they received. One of them came wandering towards 
me and I told him where he would find his Company. 
He looked at me in a dazed way. I seized him by the 
shoulders and pushed him in the direction of his 
troop. Under the impulse of the strength acquired 
by my push, he walked a few steps and then rolled 
into a ditch, and remained there stretched out as 
though lifeless. 

Vague rumours were circulating, discouraging, 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 211 

gloomy news. Some of our troops had gone over into 
Holland and we were going to follow them, as our 
retreat was cut off and the enemy quite near. . . . 
In the midst of the darkness, firing rent the air. I 
prepared immediately for parrying an attack, as I 
found myself in the rear-guard. 

Suddenly, I heard a dull, prolonged sound in the 
village. I sent a messenger and went myself to the 
out-posts. Quartermaster Snysters, a volunteer, 
though quite an elderly man, addressed me: "Lieu- 
tenant, " he said, with an anxious look on his face, 
"is it true that we are going over into Holland?" 

"My dear fellow, we shall not go over into Holland 
unless we want to, " I answered. "Are we both of the 
same mind?" 

"Ah, good! As for me, you know " 

He finished with an energetic gesture which re- 
quired no words. 

"Where are the others?" I asked. 

The others were a few brave sub-officers, who, 
with my friend Snysters, had promised to follow 
me whatever happened, through everything, through 
the enemy, through death itself, if necessary. They 
were all there, awaiting me. 

"My friends, " I said, "things seem to be in a bad 
way. The moment has come to prove your mettle. 
Are you all of the same mind still? " 

"Lieutenant," said big Van Bastelaer, "we are 
ready for everything — except to be prisoners." 

"Good," I answered. 

My messenger had not come back though. The 
sound I had heard in the village seemed farther off 
and everything appeared to be calm. I went to see 
for myself and found perfect silence in the dark street. 



212 Brave Belgians 

There was not a man to be seen. What was happen- 
ing? Presently, in the deserted Square of the little 
village, I saw a little group of soldiers appear and, at 
the head of it, I recognised Major S . 

"Is that you M ?" he called out, and then, 

in a lower tone, he added, "They have crossed the 
frontier, we are alone. . . . Have you any men?" 

"Yes, Major, I am holding the outposts." 

"Bring your men to the Square at once." 

"My friends," said the Major, speaking very 
gravely, when we were all assembled there, "we are 
surrounded by big forces. There is nothing left but 
to cross the frontier and go into Holland. Those 
who do not wish to go with me are free." 

"Good, Major," I answered, approaching him. 
"I will go with you to the frontier, but not beyond it." 

The Major looked angry, but he restrained himself. 

"What do you propose doing?" he asked. 

"I intend getting through the German lines or 
dying in the attempt." 

"But it is pure madness." 

"I do not care to give up my sword, Major, as 
long as I can use it." 

He reflected for a minute and then held out his 
hand. "Good," he said, "you are free. Adieu!" 

Four men then left the ranks. They were my 
four friends, who all preferred a glorious death to 
servitude. 

? " Attention! Right flank! Right! Forward- 
March!" 

Silently and with dragging footsteps, the troop 
set out and was soon at some distance. It then 
disappeared in the darkness. 

The thing was done and we were alone, separated 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 213 

from our army by streams of enemies, against whom 
we had to fling ourselves, and either pass or die in the 
attempt. Courage! The moment had come for 
us to prove our filial love for our beloved country! 
We were not conquered, we four, and in spite of the 
disaster hovering over us, in spite of Death, which we 
expected awaited us over yonder, we felt our hearts 
full of joy, hope, and pride. . . . 

In the German Lines 

Before setting out, we held council together for a 
few minutes. The German lines now reached from 
St. Nicolas to the frontier. In a movement as rapid 
as theirs had been, it was very probable that they had 
left gaps between these two points, and we had to 
try to pass through these gaps. I took the direction 
and we set out. I made the sign of the cross and 
committed my soul and the souls of my companions 
to the God of Justice. We each had a good gun, a 
bayonet, and our pockets full of cartridges. We set 
off across the fields in the darkness. 

After walking about fifty yards, I was compelled to 
come to a standstill. The nervous tension which had 
kept me up whilst with the troop had suddenly given 
way and, suddenly, the fatigue of the preceding days 
seemed to come upon me and stiffen all my limbs. I 
felt giddy and the whole country seemed to be turning 
round and round. I fell to the ground, and my whole 
body seemed to be seized with an immense weariness. 
I dare not give way to it, as it was necessary to move 
on. 

"Forward!" I said to myself, "for the King's 
sake!" 



214 Brave Belgians 

Presently we came to a cross-roads and it seemed 
to us as though something had moved behind the 
hedge. One of us crawled towards the spot and made 
a sign to the others that it was nothing. The wind 
had probably stirred one of the branches. We 
walked on and on, straight in front of us, across the 
immense polder, jumping over ditches full of water, 
and stumbling over the turnips in the field, for we 
passed through one after another of these turnip 
fields. I tore up a beet-root and ate it greedily as I 
walked along. 

In the distance, we saw a group of houses standing 
out vaguely against the horizon. This was probably 
the dyke which forms a passage over the water. If 
this dyke should be guarded, which was very pro- 
bable, we should have to look to ourselves. As we 
approached, we saw that the houses were lighted up. 
Peasants would not have lights at that hour. I 
crept along stealthily to one of the windows and 
gazed eagerly through a crack in the shutters. There 
was a room full of Boches in grey coats, some of them 
snoring and the others talking. 

We slipped round towards the entrance to the dyke. 
At the bend was a sentinel, motionless. I rubbed 
my chin and thought things over. If we went along 
by the water, keeping at the bottom of the embank- 
ment, there must surely be a way of crossing, if there 
were not a second sentinel. Holding our breath and 
watching every shrub, we crept slowly along. We 
came to the end of the dyke and had met no one. 

This then was the first obstacle cleared without 
any difficulty. Our prayer was that Heaven would 
protect the slumber of the Boches ! 

We were now once more in the endless desert, 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 215 

stumbling along in the furrows, eating turnips, 
crossing fields, our gaze searching for landmarks, 
which always seemed to draw farther away as we 
approached. Our minds were occupied with a vision 
of our army, that army which needed our arms and 
which had conquered our hearts. 

Soon we came to a little hamlet. There were no 
lights and, if the Germans were not there, we thought 
we might be able to take shelter during the day. 
We approached a courtyard and there we saw some 
weapons. In the sheds, we heard sonorous snores. 
We went on very quietly, but we were glad to see how 
badly the Prussians kept guard. If only they had 
known that five well-armed Belgians were having 
a look round their quarters ! 

We continued our way and had now to go through 
meadows with hedges and barriers of barbed wire. 
Here and there were solitary houses. We came to 
one with a light in the window. We went some dis- 
tance round in order to avoid it. Suddenly, big 
Jeanjean, who was ahead of us, called out: 

''This way, Lieutenant, there is a good path 
here." 

He had scarcely finished speaking when I heard a 
tremendous splash and the sound of a body struggling 
in the water. The unfortunate man had taken one 
of those moss-covered canals, which intersect the 
district, for a dry path, and had hurried forward 
with an eagerness worthy of a better reward. A 
shot was heard almost immediately. Jeanjean freed 
himself and came out of his bath, but bullets whizzed 
by our ears, as we had been discovered. 

We crawled along by the wretched ditch, and we 
jumped over another one, and then hurried along 



216 Brave Belgians 

under the hedges like hunted foxes, but we were 
followed all the time by bullets. 

In front of us, at the end of a field, I saw a row of 
houses, but we had to be cautious, for the building on 
the right was the house with a light that we had been 
avoiding. To the left were more houses, and above 
them emerged a church steeple. It was a village, 
then, and we knew it must be St.-Gilles-Waes, which 
was full of Germans. I noticed a huge patch of big 
cabbages. We crept quickly to them and then, 
crouching down amongst the leaves, with our fingers 
on the triggers of our guns, we awaited events. 

The firing gradually ceased, as the Boches had 
evidently lost track of us. It was necessary for us 
to get away from there, though, before daybreak 
and it was high time to start. 

We came quietly out of our hiding-place, fifty yards 
from a sentinel, whose back was turned towards us. 
We had to keep quite close to the walls of farms which 
were swarming with the enemy. On passing in 
front of the house with the light, I saw a figure lean 
out of the window, and then the light was extinguished. 
The village behind us became animated and the 
pursuit commenced. 

A hundred yards in front of us, a group of men sud- 
denly appeared at the turn of the road. It was a 
patrol. We crept down an embankment and then 
slipped, one after the other, into a little ditch which 
was covered by the branches of filbert trees. The 
patrol passed by and disappeared. 

The hour was advancing though, and day began to 
break. Our poor Jeanjean was shivering all over. 
We could not possibly think of spending the whole 
day like this. I saw a house, which looked very 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 217 

peaceful, outside the village. Perhaps it was empty. 
We decided to go and find out. Under the shelter of 
ditches and hedges, we arrived at the back of the house. 
In the courtyard there were guns and bags lying 
about. This was ominous, but our enterprising Van 
Bastelaer had already crossed the fence and was 
quite near to it. 

"Lieutenant," he said, "they are Belgian haver- 
sacks." 

We hesitated a moment, and then all five of us 
entered the courtyard. Some of us searched the bags, 
whilst the others began to explore the house. I went 
to have a lookout from the little lane that led into the 
road. At the other end of it, ten yards away from 
me, I saw a motor-car and by it ... a German 
officer ! 

Just as I was looking at him, he turned round facing 
me, and our eyes met. I went back to my men, but 
the Boche followed me. We were only three steps 
away from each other, looking into each other's eyes. 
With a quick gesture, he drew out his pistol and took 
aim. I unsheathed my sword and held its point 
under his nose. I shall never forget what I then 
saw. The Prussian officer turned deadly pale. Like 
a flash of lightning, I saw a look of unutterable terror 
pass over his face and then suddenly, before I had 
time to strike, this man, who had held my life in his 
hands, turned on his heels and disappeared in the lane. 

But at the same moment there was a general stir 
in the barns near by. Heads looked out from every- 
where. This time, it was going to be a tough business. 
Without waiting for our change, we all sprang over the 
palisadings. The first one caught his foot and fell, 
the next one fell on him, and all five of us rolled one 



218 Brave Belgians 

over the other into the ditch, laughing in a way that 
must have made all the Boches in the farm wild with 
fury. 

Facing us was an immense, open space, as flat as a 
glacis. There was nothing for it but to cross this. 
We started at full speed, but it was over ploughed 
land. 

"I fancy this stroke of business will be the end of 
us!" said Snysters, gasping for breath. 

"Yes," replied Jeanjean, who was breathing like a 
seal. 

"It'll be good for your cold ! " shouted little Gilissen, 
who was acting as our rear-guard. And all five of 
us, keeping up our speed, laughed heartily. 

Presently we came to a road. Jeanjean rushed a 
little way towards us, then stopped short and mut- 
tered: "Attention, Lieutenant!" I looked and saw 
a German sentinel, leaning on his weapon, stationed 
at a little building some five yards away from us. 
There was no time to manoeuvre ; I turned to my men 
and, whilst running, shouted out to them "Es geht 
wohl ! Kommen Sie hierdurch ! ' ' 

We crossed the road under his very nose and rushed 
into a little wood which skirted the opposite side. 
The sentinel did not move, deceived probably, thanks 
to the dim light, to my words, and to the audacity of 
our manoeuvre. 

To our joy, at the other end of the wood, we saw a 
dark line stretching out towards us. It was the 
labyrinth of fir-trees, of tall broom and brushwood, 
which skirts the northern part of the country. We 
crossed a glade, and then a clearing and a railroad. 
The enemy post there had not time to stop us. There 
was another wood and then, at last, we were in the 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 219 

thicket. Behind us, we gradually heard less and less 
noise, and the firing was farther off and at longer 
intervals. Still running, we described a series of 
zigzags and curves, leaving behind us ditches, clear- 
ings, and glades. . . . Finally, in the midst of a patch 
of young fir-trees, I fell down. I could not have got 
up again though for anything. The others stretched 
themselves out near me and we all lay there, like so 
many dead men, in the wet grass. 

The day broke, a fine rain fell persistently, wetting 
us through to the skin. We were shivering in every 
limb. Jeanjean coughed, snored, and talked in his 
sleep. The two Flemish men joked, swore, and 
insulted each other, each treating the other as a 
coward. . . . Gilissen, the little Liege "rossai," was 
the only one who kept silence. He was trying, con- 
scientiously, to sleep with one eye and to take stock 
of our surroundings with the other one. I reminded 
him of that time when he had been on observation 
for the Barchon Fort and had remained for forty- 
eight hours perched up on his steeple, surrounded 
by Germans, and had come back to the Fort with all 
the material of the observation post. 

Jeanjean, who certainly did not appear able to 
sleep well, now felt it his duty to compose the menu. 
"Anchovies, " he said, "salmon trout, stuffed chicken, 
cream cakes," and I do not know what beside. I 
found half a turnip in my pocket, Gilissen had three 
sweetmeats, and the ground near us was strewn with 
acorns. We were all right, and could certainly sustain 
a regular siege! 

I looked at my map, a Touring Club map, which 
was the only one I had. To my horror, I discovered 
that all the incidents of the night, and the various 



220 Brave Belgians 

turns we had been obliged to make, had made us 
describe an immense semicircle and that, at that 
moment, we were less than a mile from the frontier 
and surrounded on all sides by Germans. 

In the wood, the firing began again. We heard it 
in the distance and then nearer to us. It was an 
organised search. Presently, this pursuit made us a 
little anxious, for the bullets broke some branches near 
us. We were obliged to leave our shelter and we 
went along under cover of a deep ditch. At the end 
of this we came out and found ourselves — ten yards 
away from a group of Prussians. We rushed into a 
thicket and the hunt began again. 

Presently there was a fresh respite for us, as quite 
suddenly some quick firing was heard near by in a 
southerly direction. It sounded like an engagement 
and we wondered what it could be. Perhaps it was a 
Belgian troop, trying, like us, to get free. Extra- 
ordinary as this supposition was, it was the only one 
that seemed probable. In case we were right, it was 
our duty to endeavour to join it, at any cost, and work 
together. Perhaps our unexpected intervention, in- 
significant though it should be, might be sufficient to 
decide the issue of the fight. We moved on and had 
scarcely gone two hundred yards, when we saw a 
group of peasants coming out of a glade. They 
looked terrified. We questioned them and found 
out that the Boches were firing on the houses in the 
village, under the pretext that the inhabitants had 
hidden some Belgian soldiers. The brutes! In- 
stinctively, I moved forwards, but the bullets whizzed 
by, quite close to our ears. This time, they came from 
every side. On the left, on the right, the Germans 
were everywhere, the whole place swarmed with them, 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 221 

like a veritable ant-heap. From thicket to thicket, 
from ditch to ditch, we struggled along in order to 
avoid being surrounded. But, alas, we were going 
backwards and behind us was the frontier! Finally, 
we reached it. There was the line and that open 
view beyond — a hundred yards away from us was 
Holland ! It was the only side on which Death would 
not mow us down. Snysters swore like a demon. 
We took counsel together in whispers. There were 
three things open to us. First, we might give our- 
selves up to the Germans, but we had no idea of doing 
that. Secondly, we might let them kill us here, on 
the last little corner of our native land. This was 
tempting, but we could not rejoin our army if we 
decided on it. There was one other alternative, 
and that was to keep close to the frontier and continue 
our way, endeavouring to escape the German pursuit 
and the Dutch sentry. This seemed to us the wisest 
plan of the three. We soon cleared the hundred yards. 
There was an iron milestone at the corner of a wood. 
A few steps and then we were in Holland. 

Prisoners 

The enemy from henceforth was the sentry, whom 
we had to avoid in order to continue our way. We 
started along a sandy road in the midst of a thick 
fir-wood. We had not gone a hundred yards, when we 
found ourselves in front of a tall Dutch Sergeant, who 
made a sign for us to stop. I looked all round just as a 
hunted beast does. In the clearing, out of which the 
sub-officer had stepped, I saw a multitude of soldiers, 
with orange-coloured stripes, walking along a road, 
together with civilians. 



222 Brave Belgians 

"Hang it," I said to myself, "we are in a neutral 
country and are bound to be polite." 

I entered into conversation with the Dutchman. I 
endeavoured to make him understand that everyone 
is liable to make a mistake in the road. I apologised 
and, moving back, assured him that we would 
recross the frontier by the shortest cut possible. This 
did not meet with his approval, though, at all, and 
the great lanky fellow smiled amiably in reply to my 
speech and invited us, very calmly, to accompany 
him. We had nothing left but to obey, as we were 
already surrounded by soldiers, and they looked 
devilishly in earnest. I hid my sword under a bush 
and I took off my officer's insignia, to spare it shame, 
and in order to be less noticed myself. 

When we were at the police station, we threw our 
guns down on a heap of plunder and then we were led 
away. 

Disarmed and prisoners! Ah, there was no more 
laughing now! My four wolves, transformed against 
their will into lambs, were furious, and ready to gnaw 
their own fists. As for me, I felt myself degraded 
and I could have wept with shame and rage. I 
thought I could read in the eyes of the people, who were 
watching us pass by, a smile of pity and of contempt, 
and I was grief stricken at having exposed our uni- 
form to such dishonour. Ah, how I regretted having 
crossed the fatal line! How stupid of us to have let 
ourselves be caught like this ! Not one of us uttered 
a word. We did not reply to the questions we were 
asked. We were like feline animals, caught in a trap, 
looking furtively for any way of escape. It was 
a fixed idea with us to get back to Belgium, and we 
felt that we must be back there the following day. 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 223 

We were put with a convoy of prisoners. How 
shall I describe the painful journey of that lamentable 
herd of men! Oh, the humiliation of that procession 
of soldiers without arms! On turning a street, we 
made off, but we were brought back. At Terneuzen, 
we made a second attempt to escape. Together with 
another comrade, who was ready to make common 
cause with us, we tried to get some civilian clothes. 
It was useless. The ready-made-clothes shops were 
shut and no one would supply us with any. In 
desperation, I placed my men in two ranks, put on 
my officer's insignia again, and we marched quietly 
towards the gate of the town. We were stopped 
on the way by the sentry. 

" Where are you going?" we were asked. 

"ToSas-de-Gand." 

"Whatfor?" 

"To fetch some teams for the ambulance carriages." 

"Who sent you?" 

"The officer at the bridge." 

Our questioner did not look thoroughly convinced. 

" Forward— March ! " 

We did not need telling a second time. At the 
boundary postern, we were questioned again. As we 
put on a calm, assured manner and were very gruff, 
our stratagem succeeded again. We were now on the 
Selzaete main road, and in two hours we should be 
on Belgian soil, if all continued satisfactorily. Our 
feet now seemed to have wings. Half way, alas, we 
came across another sentry-box and here a telephonic 
message had been received with regard to our escape. 
In this land of canals and dykes, things are easy for 
the authorities. We were arrested and taken back to 
Terneuzen, between two rows of soldiers with drawn 



224 Brave Belgians 

bayonets. This fresh attempt made things bad for us, 
and we were now considered dangerous individuals, 
put on to a boat, and carefully guarded. We were 
then sent off by water, with a group of prisoners, to an 
unknown destination. 

It was dark and I was lying down on the bridge, 
although it was icy cold, looking at the stars, whilst 
on the coast the Quays seemed to be flying behind us. 
We had been sailing along for some time, and I sup- 
posed we were now in front of Flushing. There were 
more canals, which seemed to intersect each other 
endlessly. I wondered where we were going, and all 
night long we went on and on. 

In the morning the boat stopped. On the Quay, 
the crowd hurried towards us and threw us bread and 
fruit. There was great confusion, shouting, and a 
regular tumult. This was the moment for us. We 
stepped over the netting, jumped on to the Quay, 
and hid ourselves in some enormous packing cases 
filled with manure, which were standing near. We 
had not been seen, so that all seemed right. The tow- 
ing-boat whistled for the departure, but, unfortu- 
nately, we were too well known. Our absence was 
noticed, and we were once more discovered and taken 
on board. 

For hours we continued on the water, in the im- 
mense arms of the sea and we did not stop anywhere 
on our way. Water, water everywhere! How should 
we ever escape ? The first thing for us to do, evidently, 
was to procure some civilian clothes. On the boat, 
certain prisoners were already dressed as ordinary 
citizens. We talked to some of them quietly, and 
offered to exchange our uniforms for their garments. 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 225 

Very soon, we were wearing the finest dockers' suits 
imaginable. We could not help laughing to see what 
ruffians we looked in this fresh disguise. Snysters 
looked like a regular hooligan, Jeanjean wore a thread- 
bare flannel suit, which outlined his corpulent figure 
admirably. Gilissen looked like a collier and I like a 
miserable beggar. Rolent, our new recruit, with his 
soft felt hat, was the one who looked the most decent. 
Van Bastelaer refused obstinately to take off his 
uniform. It was unfortunate for him, as he was not 
able to get away with us. 

Finally, we reached Dordrecht. The convoy was 
allowed to land, so that the prisoners might have a 
meal at the barracks. After this, we were to be taken 
to Groningen, in Friesland, to be interned there. 

"Groningen, merciful Heavens!" we said to our- 
selves; "we absolutely must find a way of escape from 
here, as this is the last good card left in our hands." 

We were placed four abreast and, between two 
rows of soldiers, the troop set out. The streets were full 
of spectators, who asked the soldiers for buttons and 
cartridges as keepsakes. This was just the thing for 
us. One of us, at the turn of a street, set to work 
distributing so generously that a crowd collected and 
there was disorder, and a break in the line of the 
troops. That was just what we needed and, very 
simply, turning half round we took our place with the 
crowd, and watched the procession pass, like all the 
other good people. 

Oh, liberty! In order to relish its sweetness, we 
must first have been deprived of it for a time! How 
joyfully we went along in those narrow streets where 
we were quite unknown ! How eagerly we discussed 
our plans for returning to our "free" Belgium! 
is 



226 Brave Belgians 

The Return 

We had the good luck to find a courageous Belgian 
boatman at Dordrecht. He put us up on his boat 
and provided us with the wherewithal for reaching 
Flushing. Once there, mingling with the refugees, 
we had no difficulty in passing unnoticed. We were 
at last on our way to Belgium: boat, train, carriages, 
motor-car, waggons, every kind of transport did we 
make use of in order to hasten our return. Our 
determination carried us through. 

Finally, we reached the frontier and our feet were 
on Belgian soil. Oh bliss, no words can describe the 
feelings we had at that moment ! It was then that I 
understood fully what the love of one's country really 
is. The very air seemed purer, the ground looked 
different, and we knew all the odours and the grasses 
which grew in the ditches by the roadside. The trees 
welcomed us and their branches told us over again 
old things that we already knew, with their familiar 
swayings, which awoke in the bottom of our hearts 
all kinds of adorable and mysterious memories. Oh, 
that profound life in all things, how it drank in and 
absorbed the life of our very souls, and with what 
happiness this expanded and mingled again with that 
other life! 

The soul of our country was in everything and, 
whilst murmuring its captivating song, with its smile 
both sad and gay, it seemed to take us under its wings 
and at the same time implore our aid. 

Poor Belgium! Mother of my blood and of my 
life, I should have liked to kiss thy martyred ground ! 
But what my burning kiss could not have told you 
then, my blood, which is thine, shall tell thee some 



The Last Fragments of Antwerp 227 

day, when it waters the soil for thee, glad to fertilise 
the germ of thy liberty! 

We walked on, happy and feverishly anxious, 
hurrying on with all our strength, in order to be ready 
for that invading stream which was on its way to our 
coast and which might cut us off a second time. 

Finally, at Ostend, we found the very last of our 
columns pressed on closely by the Germans. With 
our columns we reached Furnes, where the King was. 

No one recognised us at first, such wretched objects 
did we look. We were all five of us at the end of our 
tether. One or two of us could not walk any farther, 
and the others were as though dazed. But we had 
drawn from the struggle, with the joy of having done 
our duty, a force that was infinitely greater and more 
precious than bodily force. It was the force of the 
heart that loves, whose will is imperious and can 
accomplish what it wills, for the sake of that love! 



CHAPTER XXIV 
Tournai 

By General-Major Frantz 

On our arrival at Tournai, towards the end of 
September, 19 14, we were welcomed as the saviours 
of the country. Our arrival was supposed to mean 
the reconquering of the whole province of Hainault. 
The inhabitants of Tournai had already suffered by 
the first invasion and on seeing me, with my Staff 
and troops, they imagined that they were now saved. 
They were all the more convinced of this as some French 
troops arrived at the same time. Alas, these troops 
were composed of a Battalion of Territorials, who had 
never been under fire, and a Squadron of Chasseurs, 
also Territorials, commanded by a Captain of fifty 
years of age; two Squadrons of Algerian goumiers 
of all ages and tribes, who looked superb. They were 
cavalrymen with brown faces, and were wearing their 
white burnous and carrying their long, slender guns 
in their shoulder belts. Their Sheiks, who had 
already fought for France, were proud of the crosses 
of the Legion of Honour which they wore. 

These troops did not look sufficient for the defence 
of the town and Baron Stienon du Pre, the Burgo- 
master, asked the Commander of the French troops 
if they would really prove an efficient protection, 

228 



Tournai 229 

or whether they would have no reinforcements and 
would have to leave Tournai to its fate, on the first 
attack. 

When the Germans had made their first appearance 
here, Tournai had been ordered by them to pay a tax 
of three million francs, and whilst this sum was being 
found, by means of a house to house collection, the 
Burgomaster and several other prominent men had 
been taken to Ath, as hostages. From there, they 
were sent to Brussels and imprisoned nine days, al- 
though the sum exacted had been handed over to 
the enemy. 

The French Commander considered the Burgo- 
master's question a poor kind of welcome, and I asked 
the latter for an explanation. He apologised amply 
and assured us of the absolute loyalty of himself 
and of all his citizens. After this, the French had no 
further cause for complaint with regard to their 
reception by the inhabitants of Tournai. The re- 
membrance of their sufferings was, however, too re- 
cent for the prominent men not to dread a renewal of 
them. The evil days when they had all been living 
under the Prussian heel was uppermost in the thoughts 
of all the townspeople. We were constantly being 
asked by them whether the Germans had been de- 
finitely driven back, etc. . . . Unfortunately the 
information I received prevented my giving them an 
assurance of this. 

For several days we lived at Tournai in constant 
danger of a fresh invasion. I took the precaution 
to have all the Civic Guard Scout Chasseurs 
provided afresh with arms. Their own guns were now 
in France and in different places in Belgium, so 
that instead of their Mausers they were supplied 



230 Brave Belgians 

with Gras rifles. This did not inspire them with con- 
fidence. They were absolutely lacking in initiative, 
but were always very willing. My principal forces 
consisted of about a hundred Gendarmes of the Hain- 
ault province, under Lieutenant-Colonel Bloem, of the 
Gendarmerie. I supplied my men and, later on, 
my volunteers, with fifty-seven new bicycles, which 
the Germans had left behind them in their sudden 
retreat. Thanks to these machines, I was able to send 
patrols out to a good distance. They managed to 
bring back a great deal of useful information and they 
succeeded in killing, or taking prisoners, a certain 
number of Uhlans. At the same time, we managed 
to convince the enemy that considerable troops were 
massed at Tournai and in the neighbourhood, and 
this illusion delayed their march forward. The 
famous German spying system was very defective 
here, and our enemies knew so little about the troops 
advancing on Tournai that, believing they had no 
time to take their wounded away with them, they 
had left a certain number in our hospitals. I sent 
them away promptly, as prisoners, to Bruges. 

On the 30th of September, 1914, I learnt that enemy 
troops of all arms, estimated at 10,000 to 15,000 men, 
had reached Ath and, in the afternoon, had sent 
their outposts to Ligne, about half way to Leuze. 
We might, therefore, expect to be attacked the follow- 
ing day. I sent a request for help to Lieutenant- 
General Clooten, who provided me with about a 
hundred volunteers from Eecloo. Their instruction 
had only been rudimentary, but they were excellent 
men. 

As we had no Artillery, I sent an urgent request to 
the Commander of the French Division of Douai to 



Tournai 231 

come to our help, but he could not, as he was threatened 
on three sides at the same time. We were, therefore, 
reduced to Gendarmes, to Scout Chasseurs, and to 
the Eecloo Volunteers, with the addition of a Cyclist 
Corps under Lieutenant Gerard. This officer had 
been ordered to destroy the Thulin bridge, over the 
canal from Mons to Conde. Unfortunately, the 
Belgians were betrayed by a woman in the neighbour- 
hood and fell into an ambush, thereby losing forty 
men out of the hundred and twenty of which their 
contingent was composed. The others fell back on 
Tournai. They were all daring young men, full of 
enthusiasm, and quite ready to undertake the most 
dangerous missions in the enemy's lines. I remember, 
among others, a soldier of the 12th Line Regiment. 
He had walked some miles, bringing a wounded com- 
rade with him in a wheelbarrow. 

Towards ten o'clock at night, on the 30th of Septem- 
ber, Lieutenant Gerard had come to me and placed 
himself at my service. I explained to him the situa- 
tion, and that very night he went and blew up several 
fortification works on the railway line between Ath 
and Leuze. 

At midnight, Lieutenant Gerard came to tell me 
that he had been beyond Ligne and had succeeded 
in his daring enterprise. Thanks to this bold expe- 
dition, the first Uhlan patrols did not reach Tournai 
till late the following morning. 

As we were threatened from the south-east as well 
as from the south, I was obliged to divide my poor 
forces in a way to bar the passage for the enemy in 
these two directions, and also towards the north-east, 
on the Tournai-Frasnes road. In the plains, my 
patrols of Gendarmes and Volunteers scoured the 



2^2 Brave Belgians 

country. My method was to send out strong patrols 
of twenty men, half of them Gendarmes and half Volun- 
teers. I gave them instructions to await the patrols 
of enemy Cavalry, until they were only one hundred 
yards away, so that they could fire effectually, and not 
to let either a horse or its rider escape. 

On the northern border of a little wood, about a mile 
and a half to the west of Ramecroix, to the south of the 
Tournai-Leuze road, a patrol of twenty men, under the 
orders of Captain Motry of the Gendarmerie, allowed 
an enemy patrol of seven men, commanded by an offi- 
cer, to approach within a hundred yards. With one sin- 
gle volley, they then brought down all the riders with 
their horses. Our soldiers took the horses' bits and 
the overcoats of the men they had killed, in order 
to show me the result of their work, and made off at 
once, as, to the south of the wood, a second enemy 
patrol was on its way to the rescue of the first one. 
A good number of Uhlans of this fresh troop also 
had to eat the dust. 

We could not, nevertheless, hold out against 
hordes twenty times, or rather fifty times, superior 
in numbers to ourselves. Towards mid-day, the 
French beat a retreat in the midst of the exodus of 
the unfortunate inhabitants of the town. At Orcq, 
I showed the Major in command a magnificent place 
from which he could sweep the whole country right 
up to the entrance to Tournai. He took up position 
there, but soon after received orders to continue the 
retreat towards the west, that is towards Lille. 

The French had left behind them, at the St. Jean 
Barracks, all that would have impeded their retreat: 
wounded and sick, horses, luggage, etc. 

Before leaving Tournai, it occurred to me to go and 



Tournai 233 

see what had become of this convoy. It was a fortu- 
nate thing that I did so, as no one had any idea of the 
immediate danger. I had only just time to give orders 
to the senior Quartermaster to collect all, men, 
horses, and baggage, and to set out for the Tournai- 
Lille road, where they would find the French troops. 
At the same time, I told my patrols to guard all the 
roads out, in order to allow the goumiers and mounted 
Chasseurs to keep their retreat line in the direction of 
Lille. They were all saved ! 

With my Staff, I took up quarters in the Froyennes 
Convent, on the Tournai-Courtrai, road where, thanks 
to a telephone, I could communicate with the various 
Gendarmerie posts. The Brothers of the Christian 
Doctrine, who were nearly all French, received us 
with open arms and, in spite of our protestations, 
while we were getting information and I was giving 
orders, they prepared a meal for us and looked after 
us generally. 

They had transformed their convent into a hospital 
and, unfortunately, all their trouble only served for 
the Boche wounded, as I received strict orders, in 
case the French left Tournai, to beat a retreat in the 
direction of Courtrai and to organise the defence of the 
Espierres canal. 

I started at once and arrived at Espierres on Thurs- 
day, October 1st. I saw at once that all the draw- 
bridges of the canal opened on the south side, that is 
on the enemy's side, and that it was impossible to 
change them and make the bridges work on our side, 
that is on the north side. This was most unfortunate, 
and is another proof how little we had thought of 
going to war. I quartered my Staff at Dottignies 
and took measures for guarding the various points 



234 Brave Belgians 

where it was possible to cross the canal between the 
village of Espierres (Escaut) and the Herseaux- 
Tournai railway. This compelled me to spread out 
my men and so divide my poor forces, on account of 
the number of bridges. For the next three days we 
were in contact with the enemy. We drove back 
patrols and took prisoners. My young Volunteers 
were under fire for the first time, but they were so 
brave and so eager to fight that, on the second day, I 
made seven soldiers Corporals for their conduct before 
the enemy. This encouraged the others, as they all 
wanted to distinguish themselves. 

On Saturday, October 3rd, at dusk, the enemy, after 
being driven back three times, came again in force and 
drove back two of my posts at the extreme right. 
On another side, the enemy advanced by Herseaux 
and Estampuis. I was in this way turned on my right 
and, at the same time, wedged in at Espierres. I had 
only just time to constitute a strong flank-guard of 
Gendarmes and Cyclist Volunteers to oppose the en- 
veloping movement and beat a retreat in the direction 
of Courtrai. We were being pursued all the time and 
our march was difficult, on account of the darkness. 
I stopped a local tramcar coming from Courtrai and 
put the Tournai Civic Guards into it. These men 
had no notion of a fighting retreat. Half way from 
Courtrai, I met the East Flanders Gendarmes coming 
to our aid and, under their protection, we reached 
Courtrai. 

At the roll-call of my soldiers,! saw that three of my 
Volunteers were missing. I thought they were either 
dead, wounded, or prisoners. Not at all. These 
three brave men had performed the following exploit. 
On Sunday morning, October 4th, two of these missing 



Tournai 235 

men arrived at Courtrai, carrying the saddles of two 
Uhlans with all accessories. They had carried this 
weight, about 80 lbs. each, from Espierres, through 
the enemy's lines, a distance of about twelve miles. 
When we questioned them, they replied that they knew 
we were beating a retreat towards Courtrai, but they 
each wanted to "have their Prussian" before rallying. 
They had been pursued by the Uhlans along the 
canal bank. They had crossed the muddy Espierres 
brook, which runs parallel with the canal, on a plank 
of wood. The Uhlans had attempted to do the same 
thing, but had sunk in the mud. Our soldiers had 
killed them and had dragged the horses out and 
taken the saddles, in order to prove to us that they 
had attained their object. The third missing soldier 
brought back to Courtrai a horse, fully equipped, 
after having killed its rider. He had come back quite 
alone with his plunder. We thought these feats 
superb, considering that they had all three come 
through an invaded district. 



CHAPTER XXV 
Dixmude 

From an Account given by Ernest Collin, a Private of the 

12th Line Regiment, and Completed by Ernest Job, 

a Corporal in the same regiment 

As soon as the enemy began to attack the Forts 
with an Artillery so powerful that no permanent 
fortifications could resist, the Staff realised that Ant- 
werp was lost, and that all efforts must be made to 
save the fighting army. 

The retreat began in the evening of the 6th of Octo- 
ber. It was admirably organised, but it meant exces- 
sive and inevitable fatigue for the troops. The 3rd 
Division, which covered the most exposed flank of 
the army, had the hardest task, as it was compelled 
to make continual night marches, without any rest 
whatever. 

From Antwerp to Ghent, our Battalion had to 
march all the time and our difficulties were increased 
by the combats we had to wage at Lokeren and at 
Oostacker. On their arrival at Tronchiennes, on the 
9th of October, our men were thoroughly exhausted. 
The following day, at five in the morning, the 12th Line 
Regiment and the greater part of the 3rd Division 
were sent by train to Nieuport, where they arrived 
in the afternoon. The exhaustion of the soldiers was 

236 



Dixmude 237 

so great that it was necessary to give them two or 
three days' rest. On the 13th we set off once more, 
and on the 14th we took up our position along the 
Yser. It was a very good line of defence, reaching 
from the North Sea at Boesinghe, along the river as 
far as Knocke and, beyond that town, following the 
Yperlee canal. 1 From Nieuport-Bains to Boesinghe, 
the line measured about 22 miles, an extent not at all 
out of proportion to the strength of the Belgian 
army, which was then reduced to 82,000 men with 
48,000 guns. The whole country is interspersed 
with ditches, canals, and rivers, and the supreme 
resource was that, at Nieuport, we had a dyke system 
which allowed us to inundate the country where 
German forces might be too strong. 

At daybreak, on the 15th of October, we were at 
work. We made trenches at Leke, Pervyse, and 
Oudecapelle and we were lodged, more or less com- 
fortably, in sheds and barns. The trenches and the 
movements of the troops gave us plenty to think 
about. In the distance, the cannon was roaring, 
and its sullen voice came nearer and nearer every 
minute. What was going to happen? All kinds of 
conjectures came into the minds of the soldiers. For 
the last two days, they had had no bread, but, fortu- 
nately, there were biscuits to appease their hunger. 
Some French bread was then distributed, but, al- 
though it was good, it did not take the place of the 
national brown bread. In a deserted farm, a few 
dainty-lovers massacred some poor pigs. When 
they had caught one, in a few seconds it was slaugh- 
tered, dressed, and cut up, and then each man went off 
with his share. 

1 The Campaign of the Belgian Army. 



238 Brave Belgians 

On the 19th, the 12th Line Regiment had orders 
to occupy Dixmude. Up to that date, this town had 
been defended by a Brigade of Marine Fusiliers, who 
had opened fire on the morning of the 1 6th, in order to 
drive back a strong body of enemy reconnaissances. 

According to the orders communicated to us, the 
Brigade B, which comprised the nth and 12th, as 
well as a group of Artillery, was placed at the disposal 
of the French Admiral Ronarc'h, to whom the defence 
of the Dixmude bridge-head had been entrusted. 

The Admiral gave orders to the Brigade B to hold 
the bridge-head on the right bank of the Yser, whilst 
his sailors, attached to the Belgian 5th Division, 
would execute an offensive in a northerly direction. 

Our immediate Chiefs were Colonel Jacques, 
commanding the 12th Regiment, and Colonel Meiser, 
commanding the Brigade. I have mentioned the 
names of these courageous officers, as it will be under- 
stood that, led by such men, the troops had confidence 
and it was certain that the soldiers would all do their 
duty. We were absolutely responsible for the defence 
of the Yser. The King had appealed to us, asking 
us to hold this line for the next forty-eight hours, 
although it was probable that the Germans would do 
their utmost to pierce it. We had all given our 
word to die rather than to yield this last shred of our 
territory. 

On the 19th of October, which was a bright, sun- 
shiny day, the Regiment was assembled at Oudeca- 
pelle. We were fully aware that serious things were 
taking place, but the Colonel, with a smile, announced 
a great victory. We strapped up our kits gaily and 
set off, thinking of our return to reconquered Liege. 

We gradually approached our poor, unfortunate 



Dixmude 239 

Dixmude. When we entered the town, we were stir- 
rounded by an anxious, but sympathetic population. 
Very many refugees were already on the way towards 
more favoured countries. These poor people, flying 
from the invaded towns and villages, had been wander- 
ing aimlessly day and night, in search of a safe and 
hospitable district. On seeing them, I was seized 
with fury against our relentless enemy, and I thought 
of my own family and of all those I loved, whom I 
should, perhaps, never see again. 

We passed through the town and took up our posi- 
tion in the trenches, which had been quickly prepared 
in front of the bridge-head. There was no doubt but 
that we were going to fight again. And what a 
fight it would be ! The fate of the Allies depended on 
our resisting to the uttermost. If the enemy crossed, 
we were conquered. With the most determined 
resolution, we began to improve our position. The 
Marine Fusiliers had only done the rough part of 
digging out the trenches. There was no accessory 
defence whatever, no wire, and nothing demolished, 
so that our defence would be infinitely more difficult. 
Beside this, certain trenches had been established 
against the coverts. The first thing to do was to 
complete the trenches and to clear the firing range 
within the near zone. We set to work energetically. 
It was three o'clock in the afternoon. My friend Job 
was at work fortifying the parapet of our shelter, 
and I was a little ahead of him clearing away whatever 
obstructed the outlook. Suddenly, I heard a whizzing 
sound and a shell destroyed the trench. Several 
more followed and I was knocked down. I got up 
again and ran to shelter. The shells showered down, 
and all kinds of debris were blown up in the air. 



240 Brave Belgians 

I looked round for Job and, just at this moment, a 
projectile fell straight on to his parapet, which crum- 
bled away, burying him under it. This was a terrible 
moment of anxiety, but he managed to extricate 
himself and, with a very red face, escaped to another 
trench. The bombardment continued and, at the 
end of an hour, the firing took a longer range and 
projectiles burst on the town itself. It took us a 
little time to recover. We then went back to our 
holes, or rather we had to make fresh ones, as nothing 
remained but a heap of rubbish, and I could neither 
find my arms nor my kit. I was obliged to take those 
of a wounded man near. 

At six o'clock in the evening, we were informed that 
the 5th Army Division, together with the Marine 
Fusiliers, was to cross the Yser and pass to the left 
bank. The troops in position were to protect this 
retreat. The night was fairly tranquil and it was 
raining even in the trenches. The soldiers were 
dozing, with their arms ready in case of an attack. 
Each man was his own sentinel in these inconvenient 
holes. Finally, after long hours of anguish and 
of anxiety, the darkness was over and the dawn 
comforted us. We were very weary and we hoped to 
have a little rest. Alas, the enemy was advancing and 
threatening us again. At eight o'clock, on the 20th 
of October, the bombardment commenced. It was an 
incessant shower of big shrapnels and of mine shells, 
a sort of torpedo shell, which burst with a deafening 
noise and an opaque smoke. The moral effect was 
immense, although the material damage was not 
very great. Job and I were lying face downwards 
against the parapet, helpless and dazed, expecting 
to be killed every second. 



Dixmude 241 

For long hours, that seemed like centuries, we heard 
these fatal whizzings, these formidable explosions, 
and saw our men lying still like so many wax-work 
figures. No one moved, no one spoke and no one 
could eat anything. Only the sound of heavy breath- 
ing broke the silence of the trenches. And this torture 
endured until two in the afternoon. Suddenly, our 
advance sentinels signalled the arrival of Germans in 
masses. The bombardment was the prelude to an 
Infantry attack, which began at half-past two in the 
afternoon. The Artillery firing took longer aim, in 
order to reach points behind our line. Dixmude was 
bombarded to the uttermost, in order to prevent the 
arrival of reserves to our trenches. In the German 
lines, a ceaseless Infantry firing then took place 
and the lines gradually advanced. The enemy made 
use of the ground and the numerous coverts in the 
district, as the firing zone had not been cleared to 
any great extent. The enemy troops did not reach 
the assault position, as the firing of our men caused 
them considerable losses. 

At this moment, my platoon Chief sent me to ask 
the Captain for some information. I crawled away, 
but on my return I found my Chief wounded. I 
wanted to take him away, but the Captain insisted 
on my returning to the trench. Our cannons were 
being directed on to a wood from which the enemy 
was coming. The battle was engaged and we were 
all possessed with the fever of war and were shoot- 
ing from everywhere. Dixmude was buried under 
showers of shells and shrapnels. The Germans 
appeared rapidly on all sides. We were threatened 
on our left and, under the intense and murderous 
fire, the Company which had joined us had all its 
16 



242 Brave Belgians 

officers either killed or wounded. The position was 
impossible to hold. The men still left evacuated 
the trenches and went about two hundred yards farther 
back. In spite of his energy, the Major was thinking 
of falling back, when a Company of the nth arrived, 
accompanied by Marine Fusiliers. These brave men 
marched forward and reoccupied the lost trenches. 
Many of my comrades had been struck down. I took 
one of them away who had been dazed by the explo- 
sion of a shell in his trench. I then came back, 
crouching in the ditches to avoid the balls. The 
shells were falling on every side. We did not trouble 
any more about them, as it was just luck whether we 
were hit or not. I wondered whether Job were still 
living. I did not know and I could not see him 
anywhere. 

It was getting dark. We were now in the park, 
scattered about as sharpshooters behind a hedge. 
In front of us were the trenches occupied by our men, 
reinforced by the Fusiliers. Balls were whizzing 
about everywhere. Lying down sideways, I hollowed 
out the earth with my shovel and made a slight 
parapet. The firing became more and more intense. 
The Boches were beginning a fresh assault and we 
could hear them distinctly shouting "Hoch! Lebe 
der Kaiser!" It was a sight never to be forgotten. 
In the trenches, and in the park, a strange-looking 
swarm of men. By the light of the flashes from the 
firing, we could see dark figures gliding about, running 
to the right, to the left, or forward. The Belgians and 
the French were all mingling and making frantic 
efforts. The Artillery ceased, and then the guns and 
machine-guns continued alone. What a diabolical 
concert it was! It seemed as though hell itself had 



Dixmude 243 

been let loose. With their fruitless assaults, the 
Boches made an infernal uproar. They yelled like sav- 
ages, their clarions rang out, and they were beating 
their drums. The cannon began again, and the ma- 
chine-guns told their beads, whilst the rifles discharged 
murderous volleys. In the midst of the darkness we 
could hear shouts, calls, orders, exclamations of all 
kinds. Certain French soldiers, in spite of the danger, 
when the Boches ran away, seized all kinds of utensils 
and banged the metal together, making an indes- 
cribable din. It was tragically comic, for in the 
very fiercest of the fight they were joking. 

The enemy tried in vain to take our trenches. 
Those who came near enough to us were mown down. 
It was a regular massacre. Listening intently, I could 
hear the imperious commands of the German officers 
and the obstinate refusal of the soldiers, who were in 
revolt against the task imposed upon them. 

Towards eleven o'clock, during a lull, we were quietly 
relieved, and, feeling a little more reassured, we went 
back to Dixmude. We were supplied with provisions 
and, incredible though it may seem, we spent the 
night in the attic of a house. No one could sleep. 
We all had the impression that we should neither leave 
the town, nor even that house, alive. The shooting 
continued and we could hear the echo of it. It seemed 
very near and one would have thought the fighting 
was taking place in the street. Finally, the cannon 
began again. The German tactics are to prepare 
Infantry attacks by a violent bombardment. In the 
first days of the war, this bombardment lasted three 
hours and then the attack took place. If this failed, 
the bombardment began again and gradually increased 
in intensity. 



244 Brave Belgians 

At the first glimmer of daylight, on the 21st, the 
Captain called us together under the porch of the 
house where we had slept. Platoon by platoon, we 
were to cross the Square, at full speed, where the 
projectiles were dropping. There was a second of 
hesitation, then the gate was opened and the first 
grouped rushed out. At the same instant, a shell 
burst at our side. The officer and twelve men were 
wounded. 

I left the house, cautiously, with a few comrades, 
by the garden gate at the back. We slipped along 
under cover of the shattered houses and reached the 
bridge, which was in a shaky condition. On this 
side of the town, trudging along in the mud and rain, 
there was a pitiful procession of women, children, old 
men, and indeed the whole population which had 
remained in the town until now and which was now 
escaping in terror. 

What a sigh of relief we gave when we had once 
crossed the bridge and were safely on the other side ! 
We went through the ruined village of Caeskerke, 
the church of which was still burning, and we were 
then in the country. About two miles away from 
the town, in the fields, the Battalion was reformed. 
The various Companies then separated and lay down 
amongst the verdure, in order to escape being seen by 
the enemy. About forty of our men were missing. 
There were about double that number still in our 
Company. A little warm soup restored us after all 
the emotions of the last few hours. Job and I were 
unhurt, we had certainly escaped very narrowly. We 
were quite joyful, and we told each other various 
details and exchanged opinions. We almost forgot 
the furnace we had left, as we joked together. Then 



Dixmude 245 

the remembrance of those we had left behind saddened 
us once more. 

Suddenly, some shells passed over us. Their 
whizzing, and the formidable explosions that followed, 
warned us that these were not exactly children's 
playthings. The enemy had no doubt discovered 
us, for the projectiles dropped very near. We were 
obliged to move about frequently and to cross the 
brooks and canals, with which the whole district is 
interspersed, with the greatest speed. It was by no 
means easy always and several of us had an un- 
expected bath. On the road, behind us, the "big 
blackies" kept bursting, and one of them exploded 
on an artillery waggon. That was a tragical moment, 
and we never saw anything more of the waggon, the 
driver, or the horses. 

Finally, after a hundred events of one kind or 
another, it began to get dark once more. We were 
quartered for the night in the village of Oostkerke. 
Nothing happened during the night, but in the 
distance we could hear the ceaseless firing of guns and 
cannon. 

The following day, October 22nd, we made trenches 
all day long, covering them with material which we 
fetched from the half-deserted village. We went 
there along the railroad, thus avoiding the canals. 
Towards mid-day, an armoured-train arrived by rail, 
bringing some English cannons. At last, we said to 
ourselves, we were to have some heavy Artillery, 
with which to reply to the Boches. Job and I were 
just on our way back from the village, carrying a 
beam on our shoulders, and this prevented our seeing 
the signal. The cannon was suddenly fired, and we 
two found ourselves on the ground with the beam in 



246 Brave Belgians 

front of us. We got up, almost stunned, and took 
ourselves quickly out of the way. 

The enemy replied promptly and, in front of us, just 
before the railwa}^ line, the "No. 15 Cigars" kept 
dropping. Each time that a projectile arrived, with 
its ominous whizz, we raised our heads, instinctively, 
just to see where it burst. Fortunately for us, not 
one of them reached us. We spent the night in our 
shelters, narrow holes in which we were obliged to 
remain close together like sardines, half stifled and 
cramped. 

On the 23rd, we continued our work until towards 
six in the evening. We had almost finished when 
orders were brought to us. Our Battalion was to 
return once more in the direction of Dixmude. This 
was not very re-assuring, but we made our way back, 
passing again through the ruins of Caeskerke. The 
white tower of the church was blazing and its gleams 
lit up the darkness of the night. We had been walking 
for a long time and were now moving about, back- 
wards and forwards, waiting for definite instructions. 
They came at last ; we were to reinforce the Dixmude 
troops. We set out in the darkness. A volley of 
shrapnels exploded over our heads. The men 
jumped into the ditch which runs along the road and 
buried themselves as well as they could. A few 
minutes later, as all was calm, we continued our way. 
When we were near Dixmude, we took shelter in the 
houses. We kept a lookout, with our arms ready, as 
we formed the assaulting column. If the Germans 
crossed our lines, we should have to use our bayonets. 
Fortunately they were too well-behaved, or rather 
too weak. 

Towards four in the morning, we went to the relief 



Dixmude 247 

of our comrades. To reach the trenches, we had to 
cross the shaky bridge again. We did this in Indian 
file and then kept close to the shattered walls. We 
went down the narrow streets filled with rubbish 
and, here and there, with the dead. We were con- 
stantly obliged to fling ourselves suddenly down, no 
matter where, and behind no matter what, as the big 
calibre shrapnels kept coming all the time. At a 
certain moment they followed us, and several of us 
were seriously wounded. After a hundred incidents, 
we managed, by crawling along, to cross the park 
and reach the trenches. Our companions in mis- 
fortune went silently away and we organised the 
position. Behind us, in the mysterious darkness, we 
kept seeing long blood-red trails, and these were 
followed by terrible explosions. Our cannons were 
carrying death, in their turn, to the enemy lines. I 
shall never forget those doleful whizzings, that clang- 
ing sound of steel, that noise of air filling the vacuum, 
roaring like a wild sea and then, in the distance, those 
formidable explosions which intoxicate one and make 
one thrill with excitement. 

It was almost dawn on the 24th, and we were 
concealing ourselves as best we could, for it was 
impossible to come out for anything whatever. Every- 
thing had to be done secretly, as the German captive 
balloons were overhead watching everything. The 
bombardment began once more and the whole earth 
shook. Over our heads, the shells kept flying. We 
heard them burst, with a terrible noise, either in 
the park behind us, or on the town. One of them 
entered the cellar of a large house and exploded in 
the midst of our musicians, who were hiding there. 
Some of them were killed and many of them were 



248 Brave Belgians 

wounded. As for us, we were all crouching down in 
the trenches. Some of us were watching and the 
others talking. No one could smile that day, and 
our only occupation was to keep watch on the horizon, 
in the direction of the enemy, and to notice where 
the shells exploded. 

Sometimes we were aimed at, and then we could 
do nothing but collect ourselves together, as it were, 
with our knapsacks on our backs and wait anxiously 
until the whizz should pass over us. The number 
of projectiles which fell beyond our positions is 
incredible. In front of us, we were faced by death and 
behind us by devastation. The ground between us 
and the wood in which the enemy was sheltering 
was covered with dead animals, cows, horses, pigs, and 
sheep. At times, I saw one of these animals move. 
There were even two sheep which were browsing 
tranquilly, but all the life that remained was doomed 
to destruction. There was not the slightest lull in the 
storm all day long. At four in the afternoon, a 
violent Infantry attack began. This attack was 
repulsed and the bombardment began again as fresh 
as ever. All night long, there was a succession of 
bombardments of the trenches and of all the neigh- 
bouring ground, followed by Infantry attacks. The 
latter were no longer like the attacks we had been hav- 
ing. I had the impression that there was a certain 
confusion in the direction of them, and that it was 
more difficult to commence them. After a few min- 
utes, though, there was more zeal and it was a terrible 
struggle all along the line, finishing with the assault. 
The attack did not last very long and, almost before 
the end of it, the bombardment began again. In the 
execution of these operations, there was admirable 



Dixmude 249 

co-ordination, on the enemy's side, between the Infan- 
try and the Artillery action, and this co-ordination 
was such that when our troops no longer heard the 
fall of shells in the immediate neighbourhood of the 
trenches, they were certain of the Infantry attack. 
As soon as the bombardment ceased, there was firing 
all along the line and then, as the line approached, 
the shouts oi the assault could always be heard. As 
the night advanced, the firing was no longer regular 
but by fits and starts. Hesitation could be felt. As 
to the defence, full latitude was given to the Com- 
manders of every Company. "As soon as the assault 
has failed," the Major had said, "get your men in 
hand again as much as possible, and fire in volleys." 
Each time I heard these volleys I was glad, for, as 
I said to myself, the enemy is beating a retreat at some 
point. The second the volleys ceased, the bombard- 
ment recommenced and our Infantry, crouching in 
the trenches, did not reply. The damage was not 
very serious, as it is extremely difficult to hit very 
slight trenches, so that it was only from time to 
time that an enemy shell really reached them, burying 
a few men and breaking up the line. When this did 
happen, we were quickly at work re-establishing our 
communication, getting the victims from under the 
ground and sometimes burying them a few yards 
behind the line. It is impossible to find words of 
sufficient praise for the heroism of our soldiers in such 
frightful circumstances. It must be remembered 
that our poor troops were facing masses of Infantry 
in overwhelming superiority of number, that they 
were exposed to a huge quantity of heavy field Ar- 
tillery, and that they could not reckon on the sup- 
port of our field batteries, as these were held at 



250 Brave Belgians 

bay by huge German cannons of very much longer 
range. 

Beyond our lines, Dixmude was burning. The 
continual bombardment had reduced its houses to 
ashes. The streets were no longer practicable, as the 
high pile of ruins made it impossible for a foot-passen- 
ger to walk through them. This fact greatly com- 
plicated the question of ammunition supply. From 
the rear, we had been informed that the waggons 
could no longer cross the Yser bridge, nearly a mile 
away from our positions. Men were sent constantly 
through the town to fetch sacks of cartridges and, on 
account of the great quantity of ammunition needed, 
this going backwards and forwards was continual. 
This ammunition was brought to a kind of stable 
near, and then carried to our fighting posts by supply 
agents. 

On the 25th, as soon as it was daylight, the bom- 
bardment began again more violently than ever. With 
my field-glasses, I looked at the plain. Here and there 
I could see enemy patrols and trenches. At the fringe 
of the wood, just beyond, I saw troops gliding along 
and I thought I could see a German on the lookout 
behind the chimney of a house. At a certain moment, 
a battery of the enemy Light Artillery took position 
about 1500 yards away from us. It began firing and 
its projectiles almost grazed us. We informed our 
Artillery, which answered feebly. We were furious at 
this, for we did not know that our gunners were short 
of ammunition. We had lost our Antwerp stores 
and the French supply was not yet organised. 1 In 

1 The Artillery ammunition began to be scarce a few days later. 
Towards the 25th it was chiefly the congested traffic of the 
railroads which interfered with the supply. 



Dixmude 251 

spite of all this, and with our poor resources, we resisted 
these mass attacks prepared by a diabolical Artillery. 
On that day, I still had courage enough to write a few 
words in my note book, whilst Dixmude was crumbling 
away under the 210 and 280 shells. Everything trem- 
bled, the heavens, the earth and — the men. The 
Taubes were hovering over us constantly. They were 
trying to discover our positions, which they indicated 
by dropping white fuses. A shower of shrapnels and 
shells informed us of the result of this information. 

Our soldiers presently began to complain. They 
had nothing to smoke, and some of them began to cut 
the handles of their knapsacks into shreds. Several 
of them were ill from this privation and among these 
was our Lieutenant, the only one left among us. Life 
now was a martyrdom. After all our overwork and 
fatigue, we had nothing with which to sustain our- 
selves, and we felt our strength giving way. We could 
not get any more provisions and we had no more 
warm food, as our kitchen had been destroyed at Dix- 
mude by the shells. 

The enemy was approaching and we wondered 
whether we were going to be relieved or reinforced. 
Alas, no ! There was nothing for it but to go on watch- 
ing, with our bayonets ready, whilst the " big blackies " 
fell round us all the time. Quite near to us, on the 
Keyem road and in the park, huge trees were mown 
clean down and enormous craters, with charred edges, 
hollowed by these murderous engines of warfare. 
Sometimes fragments of the shells fell at our feet, or 
passed over our shelter with a whizz, burying them- 
selves deeply in the ground. Certain projectiles 
entered the ground without bursting, causing us great 
anxiety. Our flasks had long been empty and we 



252 Brave Belgians 

were literally dying of thirst. Our Commander asked 
if a few men would volunteer to fetch some wine from 
the town. I went with three or four comrades. 
Dixmude was a lamentable sight. The streets were all 
torn up and filled with ruins and rubbish of all kinds. 
The houses were all destroyed and as empty as egg- 
shells. What was underneath all that ? Probably, both 
living and dead, riches and art-treasures. I saw the 
body of a poor mother, with haggard eyes and clenched 
teeth. She seemed to me like a reproach to the 
Germans for their odious war. Near her was a 
young child, which looked as though it were sleeping. 
What a number of wrecked houses! Furniture, 
carpets, and curtains strewed the ground, all this 
saccaged by man returned to a savage state. If the 
enemy should take the unfortunate city, I thought, 
he will only have conquered ruins. At the relief 
station, I found my Lieutenant stretched out on the 
ground between two Boches. One of these was 
groaning all the time, the other one was a very young 
man, scarcely seventeen, I should think. To see my 
Lieutenant near these two gave me a pang. 

We managed to get some wine and then returned 
to the trench. The distribution of this precious 
liquid caused our men a little joy and made them more 
hopeful. Each of them was ready to go to work 
again with fresh energy. A little later, my friend 
Job went with a few other men to get some more 
wine and some cartridges. They were less lucky 
than we were, for. one of them had both legs broken. 
Another one had the good luck to escape uninjured, 
although the bottle he was holding was smashed by a 
bullet. 

When the darkness came on again, things looked 



Dixmude 253 

very threatening. After sprinkling our trenches with 
projectiles of every calibre, the German Artillery 
bombarded the town, in order to prevent any reserves 
from coming to our relief. The enemy then came out 
from a wood and moved a little to our right, in the 
direction of the cemetery, where our 2nd Battalion 
was lying in wait. The shells fell there in quantities, 
damaging the tombs and causing a fearful scene. 
The vaults and tombs opened under the fire and 
coffins were exposed to view. When our courageous 
soldiers fell, in the midst of this furnace, we saw what 
will probably never be seen again, the living buried 
alive and the dead brought out of their graves. . . . 
At daybreak, on the 25th of October, the Germans, 
in a compact mass, came out of a small wood and 
moved rapidly, with heads lowered, marching in 
column, four abreast, towards a canal which sepa- 
rated them from us and which was crossed by only one 
bridge. By means of a little ditch along the bank, 
they were able to deploy as sharp-shooters and, in 
this way, they attempted to cross the bridge. Our 
men were watching though, and sprinkled the passage 
with shot, which meant death to the enemy. The 
bridge was soon obstructed and the dead men were 
piled up one on the top of the other. The heaps of 
dead were as high as a man. In spite of this, these 
loathsome beasts, for they are no longer human 
beings, crawled up behind their brothers-in-arms, 
climbed up on to the top of the dead men and . . . 
fell down from there, under the fire of our machine- 
guns. The more lucky ones, those who were not 
hit, fell into the ditch and, getting up again, rushed 
on to the assault with hoarse cries, only to be killed 
as they came nearer to us. They were in such quanti- 



254 Brave Belgians 

ties though, and they came on so quickly, that we 
could not bring them all down and some of them 
crossed to the right of us. Mad with excitement and 
eager for carnage, three or four hundred Boches crossed 
our line and rushed on into Dixmude, uttering wild 
beast cries and hoping to cause a panic amongst us. 
The wild band was stopped at the Yser bridge by 
the fire of our machine-guns. Several fell under the 
murderous storm and rolled into the canal ; the others 
wheeled round and divided into several detachments. 
In the town itself, there was now a terrible chase, and 
a sanguinary hand-to-hand struggle between the 
Boches and us. We were able to take some of them 
prisoners though. Hidden in the cellars, as soon as 
they caught sight of our patrols, they held up their 
hands in fear and trembling, and begged for mercy. 
Those who offered the least resistance were shot down. 
Soon after, our advance sentinels captured some of the 
enemy who had escaped the massacre. They were 
crawling along the canal side, hoping to get back 
to their lines. These were the last of the band. In 
spite of all their efforts, the Germans had not crossed 
the Yser, nor broken our resistance. The Belgians 
and the French Fusiliers were the conquerors. The 
entrances to our trenches were strewn with enemy 
equipment and arms, and a few yards in front of us 
lay dead bodies pele-mele. Our soldiers searched 
these bodies and handed over a lot of things to the 
chiefs. Certain sums of money and jewellery and 
watches found on the enemy were given back to us, 
as we frequently had the proof that these objects 
had been taken from the Belgians. 

Once more night came on, putting an end to the 
terrible work of the day. Our sentinels, in absolute 



Dixmude 255 

silence, went back to their outposts, and we waited 
for the comrades who were to replace us in the trenches. 
Our food was all gone and nothing more to eat or 
drink was brought to us. We began to get very 
anxious. At eleven o'clock, the Senegalese came to 
take possession of our trenches. These brave soldiers 
came so quietly that they took us almost by surprise. 
They are tall, strong fellows, and in the dusk only 
their eyes and teeth can be seen shining in contrast 
to their black skin. We were glad to have them with 
us. They had scarcely been there half an hour, 
when the enemy attacked them, but without any 
success. The Senegalese rushed forward to meet the 
enemy, whom they repulsed with their bayonets and 
knives. As to us, glad to be free for a time, we marched 
along with big strides in spite of our fatigue. There 
was a death-like silence in Dixmude. The stretcher- 
bearers, taking away the wounded, were all that 
gave to these smoking ruins a little life. We crossed 
the shaky bridge over the Yser once more and moved 
on, after giving a last sad look at the huge pile of 
debris, with its dead, which was all that was left of the 
town. 

On the road, our Major told us that we were going 
to have a rest, that our banner had just been decorated 
with the "Order of Leopold," and that the name of 
"Dixmude" was to be embroidered on it in gold 
letters. 



CHAPTER XXVI 
Eight Days in Dixmude 

Extracts from the Diary of an Artillery Observer, by 
F. de Wilde of Brigade B (Formerly I2th Brigade) 

October ig, IQ14. We have been at Nieucapelle 
for the last three days. The war is getting pictur- 
esque. Blue or red burnous are now to be seen as the 
army passes along. The horses are small and their 
riders perched on the saddle like monkeys. The 
whole tribe must have set out together, as there are 
several generations, from youths to old men with 
faces like parchment. 

At eight o'clock, we had been ordered to assemble 
at Oudecapelle. We found the horde of goumiers 
there, giving a touch of Orientalism to the melancholy 
Flemish landscape. Our men fraternised with them, 
and details about Arab life were soon forthcoming. 

These Bedouins were accustomed to be paid three 
francs a day and to have the right of pillaging in the 
enemy's country. They were constantly asking, 
after crossing a field, if they were not yet in Germany. 
Armed with big knives, they kept brandishing them 
with the gesture of cutting off an enemy's head, at the 
same time grinning in a way that showed their 
white teeth. They have a great partiality, too, for 
ears. Among them was a tall negro, who kept repeat- 

256 



Eight Days in Dixmude 257 

ing in very bad French: "Francise, Belgise, Anglise, 
all comrades!" Thereupon he would hold out a 
huge hand and pretend to be drawing his gloves on, 
rather a suggestive way of asking for some, perhaps. 
This country is by no means an easy one for them, 
cut up, as it is by wide, muddy ditches, in which their 
horses have to wallow breast high. In the distance, 
could be heard the English fleet, cannonading the 
coast and the German columns coming from Ostend. 
The French Marine Fusiliers, together with the 
Belgian 5th Division, went to Beerst. A violent 
combat was engaged there. Beerst was taken, 
lost, and then retaken by the Fusiliers. German 
reinforcements, coming from Roulers, compelled 
all the troops to beat a retreat. It was decided that 
we should defend the bridge-head at Dixmude. Our 
Brigade and the French Marine Fusiliers were en- 
trusted with this. We were placed under the com- 
mand of Admiral Ronarc'h. There was a very 
frugal board at the Admiral's Headquarters. We 
managed to find a biscuit and a tin of pressed meat 
and, what was better still, we found — a mattress. 

October 20th. An attack on the bridge-head is 
imminent. We have received orders to take position 
at Kapelhoeck with our three batteries, the 40th, 
41st, and 42nd. A violent and ceaseless cannonading 
was to be heard from early morning. Shrapnels, 
hidden in fleecy clouds, and mine-shells, with a clang- 
ing noise and black smoke, kept falling on Dixmude 
and bursting with a deafening noise. 

We were camping in a deserted farm. The dogs 
had lost their voices and the cattle were wandering 
about at their own will. At eleven o'clock, the 40th 
17 



258 Brave Belgians 

Battery, under Commander Aerts, was sent to the 
north of Dixmude, near the Keiserhoek Mill, and the 
41st, under Commander Huet, towards Eassen. 

At noon, just as some atrociously salt pork was 
simmering on the fire, we were sent with the 42nd 
battery, under Commander Schouten, to take up our 
position at Keiserhoek, near the 40th, in order to 
support the 12th Line Regiment. Major Hellebaut, 
who commanded the Artillery of Brigade B., Hazard, 
a pupil of the Military School, a Brigadier Trumpeter, 
and I were in front. We trotted at a good rate over 
the paved road and, without uttering a word, crossed 
the bridge, and went along the streets leading to the 
Square. A few Infantry Companies, in line by the 
houses, watched us in bewilderment. 

On arriving at West Street, we halted and dis- 
mounted in front of the house of the Notary, M. 
Baert. This house was empty. We left our horses 
in charge of the Trumpeter and continued our way 
on foot, through Dixmude, towards Keiserhoek. 
The town was awful to behold; the streets were 
absolutely deserted and full of debris of all kinds 
and of shell-holes. The houses were shattered, the 
walls cracked, the tiles in fragments, and the window- 
panes broken. In the street leading to Keyem, we 
noticed enormous splashes of blood. It was no 
use trying to find which side of the street was more 
sheltered. We were walking in the very centre 
of the firing line. x 

Suddenly, on a window ledge, we caught sight of 
Max, a young Malines collie, which our soldiers had 
adopted at Boom and which had gone with us on one 

1 According to information taken from an account by Major 
Hellebaut. 



Eight Days in Dixmude 259 

waggon or another everywhere. The poor dog was 
trembling now with fear. We took him away with 
us and continued our way. A waggon came back 
with half of its team. The whole road was being 
swept with shrapnels and it was impossible to keep 
straight on. We turned to the right by the Handzaem 
canal and endeavoured to find Lieutenant-Colonel 
van Rolleghem, who was in command of the 12 th Line 
Regiment. Thanks to the trees along the canal 
bank, we reached the trenches. The Colonel was not 
there. We were advised to try the other side of the 
canal. A boat was at hand and we crossed, under 
the sharp whizzing of shrapnels. The Colonel was 
at the extreme end of the winding line of the Blood 
Putteken trenches. It was impossible to employ the 
42nd Battery there. The 40th, which had been able 
to put only two of its cannons on the battery in an 
orchard to our right, had not been able to stay at 
Keiserhoek. 1 It had two of its horses killed and 
would have lost a cannon if it had not been for the 
self-sacrifice of Quartermaster Vivier. The trenches 
were being shelled. Thanks to wrong observation, 
the German firing was concentrated on a line of wil- 
lows, the indistinct outline of which appeared to be a 
hundred yards away from the retrenchments. Orders 
were given to us to return to Kapelhoek. We had 
to go once more into the Dixmude hell. Just as we 
reached the big Square, a big shell of 21 centimetres 
fell twenty yards away, at the corner of West Street, 
filling the whole street with opaque grey smoke. 
We ran through this to the middle of a heap of stones, 
bricks, and beams. Another projectile entered by the 

1 This information was obtained from an account given by- 
Artillery Major Hellebaut. 



260 Brave Belgians 

air-hole of a house and killed the band of the 12th 
Line Regiment which had taken refuge in a cellar. 
In the meantime, the 41st Battery, returning from 
Eessen, joined us and the three batteries crossed the 
bridge over the Yser, arriving at a trot at Kapelhoek. 
They opened a violent fire on the ground to the south 
of the cemetery, and the Boches were obliged to clear 
out. That evening we entered a farmhouse, and 
found five beds in a state which proved that there 
had been a hasty flight from there. We jumped into 
the beds just as we were. There was a deafening 
noise of Artillery and the sharp crack of guns. 

All this was intermittent at first, but it increased 
until it became incessant. The machine-guns con- 
tinued all the time. A terrified soldier came in and 
informed us that there was an attack on the town. 
All night we heard the tumult of the fight, the roaring 
of the cannon, the whizzing of balls, and a wild 
clamour. 

October 21st. At daybreak, the firing diminished 
and the Germans were falling back. Our troops had 
been superb and had repelled three assaults. A 
band of prisoners passed by. Nearly all of them 
were young and had come from Brussels. They 
had not fought before. According to them, many of 
their officers had been killed the previous day. They 
had been replaced by officers they did not know, 
taken from the central army. 

A German officer with dum-dum balls was arrested. 
When he was questioned, he declared that these balls 
did not belong to him. As he became arrogant, he 
was made to turn round. He took advantage of 
the first moment of inattention for trying to escape. 
He was shot down at a distance of 150 metres. His 



Eight Days in Dixmude 261 

revolver was loaded with these same dum-dum balls, 
and he was buried at once. We then fired on Vladsloo 
and on Eessen. We did not have to wait long for the 
reply and a few of our men were wounded. 

The morning was relatively calm, but towards one 
o'clock, the battle began again as fiercely as the day 
before. This time the enemy aimed at the roads 
by which we might retreat. The German firing was 
more exact now. A quantity of vehicles were sta- 
tioned on the Oudecapelle road. At the first shells, 
they started off at a trot for shelter. Three waggons 
were hit and the horses fell down. The fete began 
once more and Dixmude was again bombarded vio- 
lently. A shell set fire to the Collegiale and the tower 
was soon a brazier. Through the capricious flames 
we could see an arch for an instant, and then the clock 
tower foundered in an apotheosis. It began to get 
dusk and five fires could now be seen against the 
horizon. Dixmude burst into flames here and there. 
A roof flamed up and threw a vivid brilliant gleam 
over the open-work gables. The Germans were 
firing continually and the bursting of their projectiles 
made a cloud of sparks. It was dismal and at the same 
time imposing. 

The firing continued and then, in a moment's lull, 
which seemed strange in the midst of the infernal 
noise, we heard the charge being sounded. This 
was followed by an immense and ferocious clamour 
which was answered by an intense firing. Suddenly, 
everything was quiet and this sudden silence in the 
midst of the darkness was most impressive. We 
wondered whether the enemy had succeeded or been 
repulsed. The silence continued. Then the firing 
began again, more intense still and in the same spot. 



262 Brave Belgians 

We breathed freely, for the line had evidently not 
been forced. The anguish which we had all felt was 
over. It had been atrocious, that anguish of listening 
and seeing nothing, knowing nothing for certain, 
except that our lives and the lives of so many others 
were at stake, in the midst of the mysterious darkness. 
We kept all our positions. For three whole days it was 
one incessant fight. The German Infantry was a 
few hundred yards away from ours, and on the Yser, 
to the north of Dixmude, we were each holding one of 
the banks of the river. For four nights we had 
taken what rest we could, just as we were, and we had 
no notion of time. We ate when we could ; sometimes 
the meals were good and frequently bad. 

October 22nd. With the dawn the firing slackened. 
The Germans were falling back and we opened a 
violent firing in the various directions of their retreat. 
Then there was silence again. We wondered whether 
they had changed their points of attack. Towards 
ten o'clock, an energetic cannonading began towards 
the right. Our Cavalry Divisions were on that side 
and the English were making their way vigorously in 
the same direction. At eleven o'clock, the battle began 
again. The big calibre abounded on the German side. 
They showered their 15 and 21 on us in all directions. 
Nothing was spared. The ground was ploughed up 
with a frightful noise and the fields studded with 
enormous craters. Up to the present, there had been 
more noise than damage. During the afternoon and 
the evening, the Boches attempted several more 
attacks, but these all failed. We fired with great 
rapidity and our storms did a great deal of damage 
and cut short their attempts. Some of the prisoners 
told us that we had destroyed one Battalion and 



Eight Days in Dixmude 263 

part of the Cavalry, which had been taking refuge 
at the Castle to the south of Dixmude. The French 
army had asked us to hold out two days on the Yser, 
and our troops had resisted eight days, and had been 
attacked during six days with terrific stubbornness. 

October 23 rd, 24th, and 25th. The Infantry attacks 
were getting fewer and farther between. On the other 
hand, the Artillery was working hard. The Germans 
have a fearful proportion of Artillery of all calibres, 
and it is their cannon that does the most work. 

The struggle continued like the day before and the 
day before that. It was the Battle of the Aisne con- 
tinuing. The adversaries had retrenched themselves, 
and more particularly before Woumen. The Boches 
had piled up their embankments here. As I was out 
on observation every day, along the banks of the 
Yser, I could see their trenches spring out of the earth 
as though by magic, grow longer and become inter- 
sected with each other. They work with an ease and 
activity that is remarkable. In a place where there 
was nothing at night, a close network of trenches is 
to be seen the following day, together with a series 
of junctions and communication trenches. We fired 
violently, and overturned their mole-heaps, but a 
few minutes later we could see the rapid movement 
of earth turned over, and hear the noise of the 
iron spades, which would soon restore the damaged 
places. 

In the distance, a few patrols were moving about; a 
battery was passing by at a trot in a sheltered road. 
In the beet-root fields, to the south of Dixmude, could 
be seen long, grey figures lying in front of the German 
retrenchments. This was a neutral zone, within 
which no one could enter. All this was the ransom of 



264 Brave Belgians 

the battles of the previous day, these were the dead 
bodies that could not be brought in. 

On the evening of the 23rd, we heard groans and 
shouts in bad French coming from the long grasses in 
the fields. This was the first time I had heard 
wounded men shouting. A few voices could be 
heard above the rest: "Help! Help! French . . . 
wounded!" 

We wondered what this fresh ruse was, for ruse it 
certainly was, and a very palpable one. We did not 
stir, of course, and all was soon quiet again. The 
Artillery was not long quiet though, and the quantity 
of ammunition it consumed was considerable. The 
Germans bombard with unprecedented energy. The 
small calibre had almost disappeared and only 
the heavy guns were now doing their part. Mine-shells 
exploded with a noise like thunder. It was sheer mad- 
ness, for the Boches were evidently firing without much 
observation, as, after placing the batteries, instead 
of firing in a way to destroy everything, they changed 
their target, fired at longer or shorter range, peppering 
the whole district, but not doing any great damage. 
When they have an idea though, they persist in it, 
so that when their idea was to attack one special 
point, they went on shooting with admirable persist- 
ency — even when there was nothing at the point at 
which they were aiming. A shell has just burst 
under one of our windows, breaking the panes and 
staining the Adjutant Major's papers with mud. 
Our roof is like a sieve at present. One or other 
of us is all the time at the telephone. The wires are 
broken constantly by the shells. The telephonists 
run along and the communication is set up again. 
Night and day, we hear the strident ring of the tele- 



Eight Days in Dixmude 265 

phone bell. Some information arrives, or an order is 
given, one of the officers gets up, rushes off to the 
battery — and a telephonic message orders us to stop 
firing for the moment. When there is an important 
piece of information, everyone starts off. The dry, 
hoarse voice of our 75 mingles hurriedly with the dull 
rumblings in the distance, and with the formidable 
explosions of the projectiles that arrive. After this, 
all who have luck go to rest again, the privileged 
ones in any beds that are free, and the others on straw 
that is spread each night in the kitchen. For a whole 
week we have been installed on this farm. We have 
managed to find a few vegetables for our table, but 
meat is rare. The first day, we feasted on fowl, but 
now there are no more fowl. Then we had a pig 
killed. To-day, we have some tinned meat; to- 
morrow, I do not know what we shall have. Our 
greatest privation is the scarcity of cigarettes. We 
are reduced to making shapeless cigarettes with bad 
pipe tobacco. There is literally nothing to be had 
here. The water is so salty that we drink only coffee. 
Fortunately there is no shortage of milk. Our men 
go, in the early morning, and milk the wandering 
cattle which they find enjoying themselves in the beet- 
root fields. Not a single dog barks. They all go 
creeping along close to the buildings, with their tails 
between their legs, and at the first whizz of a shell 
they jump down wildly into any hole they happen 
to find. The projectiles have made a hecatomb of 
cattle on every side. All the famous meadows 
round Dixmude and Veurne-Ambacht are strewn 
with dead cows, lying on their back with their feet in 
the air. The game is all terrified. The cannonading 
keeps on all the time: the shooting is intermittent 



266 Brave Belgians 

during the day and almost incessant during the night. 
Whenever there is a lull, the prolonged roar of the 
Ypres cannon in the distance is deafening. All this 
noise gets on our nerves, which are already at full 
tension. 

October 26th. Dixmude, Kapelhoek. At six in the 
morning, we were suddenly roused by a firing almost 
in our ears. The bullets lodged in our walls. It was 
evidently an alert. A Commander came back to us 
calling out: ''The Germans are 400 yards away!" 
We got up in haste, amazed at what we heard. On 
looking out, we were greeted by a hailstorm of bullets. 
They seemed to come from all sides at once, so that 
it seemed as though we were surrounded. We took 
counsel together quickly. 

"To the guns," was the order "and shrapnel fire 
at short distance! " 

It was impossible to get to the batteries. The 
morning mist was hanging over everything. We 
could see only indistinct figures moving about. There 
was a moment's lull in the firing and our men rushed 
to the guns. The zeal of one of our gunners was for- 
tunately calmed in time. He was just about to aim 
at one of our own patrols. 

"What is the meaning of this? Where are they? 
What is the matter?" were the questions everyone 
was asking. 

About fifty Germans had crossed the Yser and 
search was being made for them. I rushed off to 
Headquarters to give this information and to bring 
help. I met a patrol of Dragoons, another of Fusi- 
liers, and a third of Carabineers. The alarm had been 
given. 

At the Admiral's Headquarters, everyone was up 



Eight Days in Dixmude 267 

and discussing the incident. An enemy detachment 
had crossed the river and caused a panic, thanks to 
its firing, but at daybreak the troops had pulled them- 
selves together, the positions were reoccupied, and the 
hunt was taking place. I went out towards Dixmude 
and, in a ditch, I saw two Germans lying face down- 
wards in the mud. On the other side the road were 
two bluejackets, with their sweaters unbuttoned and 
the blood flowing freely. A girl, half wild with anxiety, 
rushed across to me. She had been helping an old 
woman along. "Oh, sir, my mother is dying; some- 
thing to put her on, so that she can be carried I " I could 
only point to the Headquarters. Just then a stretcher 
passed by, carried by four of the Fusiliers. On it 
was the dead body of Commander Jeanniot. His 
face was covered with a handkerchief, but his crushed 
arm was hanging down and he had a fearful wound 
in his thigh. There were dead bodies heaped up on 
the Dixmude bridge. One of them was still hanging 
on to the railings, which he had clutched in his death- 
agony. All of them had quantities of wounds, holes 
in their breasts, and eyes wide open, scared by the 
frightful sights they had seen. Beyond the bridge 
were heaps of dead bodies, lying pele-mele with their 
stiff limbs intermingled and their coagulated blood 
on the pavement. 

Still farther on were more dead bodies. A few 
Belgians were also sleeping their last sleep on the 
foot-path. Patrols were going to and fro, searching 
houses, their weapons in their hands and their eyes 
on the lookout for everything. As I went farther 
into Dixmude, I found heaps of ruins, charred walls, 
blackened stumps, broken windows. In one house, 
the whole facade had given way and the ceilings had 



268 Brave Belgians 

remained. It looked like a piece of stage scenery. 
Strangely enough, too, one house stood entirely un- 
scathed. The Square was completely torn up and 
there were rows of craters bordered by paving stones. 
The Council House could still boast the skeleton 
of its clock tower and the stained glass was still 
dropping from its window frames. The headless 
tower and the four walls were all that remained stand- 
ing of the Collegiale building. 

On my return, I met two stretchers, on one of which 
was an old German officer who had been mortally 
wounded, and on the other an immense fellow with 
square shoulders, wearing enormous spectacles with 
horn rims. The men could scarcely carry him, as he 
was so heavy. On returning to the battery, I learnt 
that two prisoners had been taken. I went to see the 
place where the last struggle had taken place. About 
fifteen bodies were lying on the muddy ground, which 
was all bespattered with blood. Four of the men were 
still living. The Major in command was lying on his 
back, dead, with his mouth open and his skull pierced. 
A Lieutenant had fallen sideways with his arm under 
him. He was young, with refined features. He 
was very carefully dressed and was wearing extremely 
fine linen. One of the blue-jackets approached, 
turned him over skilfully, and plunged his hands in 
the dead man's pockets. 

"Ah, not much there, his pockets have been cleared 
out!" This was the only funeral orison he had. 1 

The other bodies were covered with wounds, for the 
bayonet is a terrible weapon. A little farther on 

1 The Major's name was von Oidtmann. He was in command 
of a Battalion of the 222nd Augusta Regiment. The Lieutenant's 
linen was marked P. and P. C. 



Eight Days in Dixmude 269 

were the Fusiliers who had been assassinated in so 
cowardly a way. Their wounds were frightful. 

After this alert, the morning was almost tranquil. 
It was not until the afternoon, that the Artillery 
began once more its nerve-wearing fire. 

October 27th. Dixmude-Kapelhoek. After their 
failure of yesterday, it seemed as though the Germans 
wanted to change the point of attack. They went 
towards the north. Thirteen foot-bridges had been 
thrown over the Yser towards Tervaete and some of 
their troops had landed on our side of the river. 

A French Division reinforced us, thus enabling us 
to make a vigorous counter-offensive, but without 
regaining all the lost land. The Artillery struggle 
began again more fiercely than ever. The heavy guns 
were used almost entirely. Their projectiles seemed 
to cut the air. The explosions were terrible, sending 
up into the air enormous masses of earth. The 
splitting of the shells was such that at 800 metres 
fragments arrived like a whirlwind with a threatening 
bee-like noise. We picked up a fragment 45 centi- 
metres long, by 12 broad and 6 in thickness. Taubes 
were flying overhead. Around Dixmude, the net- 
work of trenches was getting more and more com- 
plicated. It was getting gradually smaller, and the 
encircling movement had commenced. 

We remained at Dixmude until the 6th of Novem- 
ber. On that day, French batteries came to relieve 
us, and on that day we had only one cannon left out of 
twelve; the eleven others had been disabled. We had 
seen the grip getting tighter and tighter, the cannon- 
ading more violent, the firing more intense, and the 
assaults more frequently repeated. When necessity 
obliged us to leave, we had, at any rate, seen the 



270 Brave Belgians 

inanity of the adversaries' furious attacks and their 
recoil from the quiet, mounting water and the in- 
undation, which had just begun at the right moment. 
We had been able to guard intact the last shred of our 
beloved Belgium. 



CHAPTER XXVII 

Four Hours with the Boches 

From the Diary of Dr. van der Ghinst, of the Cabour 
(Adinkerque) Military Ambulance, and an Account 
given by Leon Deliens, Private of the iith Line 
Regiment 

October 24th. Dixmude, at night. By the sinister 
light of the burning houses, the Belgian soldiers and 
the French Marine Fusiliers were moving about among 
the ruins, in the midst of the flames which skimmed 
along the ground. With blackened faces, haggard 
eyes, and unkempt beards, their uniforms covered 
with blood and with dust, they went up and down the 
streets, springing over the stones, beams, and debris 
of all kinds, and climbing over walls. The gigantic 
shadows which they threw added to the phantas- 
magoria of the strange scene. From time to time a 
shrapnel burst, vibrating in the air with the sound of 
a huge tuning-fork, or with a great flood of light the 
explosion of a shell made the cracked walls shake. 

Our relief post was installed in what had formerly 
been a much frequented drawing-room in the house 
of a notary. Presently, the stretcher-bearers brought 
in a wounded man who, between his groans, told us 
that the Germans had entered the town. This 
seemed incredible, as our trenches formed an un- 

271 



2"]2 Brave Belgians 

interrupted barrier. We thought the man must be 
delirious. Very soon, a second wounded man told us 
the same thing and it was confirmed by a third. 
One of them told us that he had seen the dead body of 
a German at the Square, nearly two hundred metres 
away from our ambulance. We began to wonder 
whether our line had been broken? If so, it would 
mean street fighting. Two days ago, the French 
doctors had transported their installations beyond the 
Yser. The only thing for us to do was to imitate 
them and so save our wounded. Without wasting a 
minute, I had them put into an ambulance carriage. 
We crossed the bridge and took the road leading to 
Caeskerke. On arriving at a little wine-shop, about 
four hundred yards outside this place, where another 
Belgian relief post had been installed, we carried our 
patients in and made them as comfortable as we 
could. 

In the night, I was roused suddenly by my faithful 
orderly. 

"The Germans are here!" he shouted, shaking me 
out of my slumber. In a second, I was on my feet. 
All my companions, doctors and stretcher-bearers, I 
found in the principal room of the wine-shop, talking 
together in the dark. I asked what had happened 
and they explained to me, in a whisper, that a trumpet 
blast, which was not ours, had been heard. After 
that there had been firing and shouts, and then a rush 
of men passing like a hurricane by our door, in the 
direction of Caeskerke. They were all shouting: 
"Hurrah!" 

If this were so, our lines must have been forced and, 
whatever happened, it was necessary for us to know 
the truth. Anything was better than this mortal 



Four Hours with the Boches 273 

anguish. I opened the door. It was pitch-dark 
outside, an October night, cold and rainy. I could 
hear groans coming from the house opposite. With 
my Browning in my hand I entered and, by the light 
of my electric lamp, I saw two men stretched out on 
the floor, side by side, giving no sign of life. On 
approaching, I recognised Lieutenant Richard, of the 
Navy, and Abbe Le Helloco. I heard a groan coming 
from a corner of the room and found Dr. Duguet, the 
Head Doctor of the Marine Fusiliers. 

Two stretcher-bearers, in answer to my call, came 
and fetched my unfortunate colleague to our relief 
station. 

1 • My back is broken, " he said, with a moan. 

I tried to reassure him, and he then told me that, 
on hearing the shouts, the three officers, less prudent 
than we had been, rushed to the door of their house. 
Their outline, standing out in the framework of the 
door, made an excellent target and they had all three 
fallen, hit by the horde as it rushed forwards. We 
wondered what would happen next and what had 
become of our Staff, which had its Headquarters in 
one of the neighbouring houses. What had happened 
to our brave Colonel Jacques, to Captain Philippron, 
and to their comrades? I rushed to the house where 
they were installed, and rapped. The door was 
promptly opened, but several revolvers were all I saw, 
and they were pointed at my head. 

" Doctor van der Ghinst ! " I shouted. 

At the sound of my voice, the Brownings were 
lowered. In spite of the darkness, I recognised 
Colonel Jacques. 

"What is the meaning of this joke, Colonel?" I 

asked. 
18 



274 Brave Belgians 

"Yes, yes," answered the voice of our Chief, "the 
African." "The Boches have got through. You 
cannot stay here; we must have a reinforcement." 

"Where is it to be found?" 

"There is a Battalion at Caeskerke. The question 
is who will go and take the information? " 

"I will," I answered. "The road appears to be 
clear." 

I was soon on my way. A French sailor, going in 
the same direction, went with me. It was perfectly 
dark. Stretching our heads forward, we tried to peer 
into the darkness. We had scarcely gone two hundred 
yards when we heard voices. 

"Halt!" cried someone. Thinking I had to deal 
only with French soldiers, I replied: "Belgian 
doctor." "Hands up!" was the command. I could 
now see, in the ditch, to the left, some pointed helmets 
and also some bayonets confronting us. There was 
nothing to be done, as all resistance would have been 
in vain. If we had moved a step, we would have 
been killed. We had to go down into the ditch, where 
we found other victims. I protested in German, 
declaring that I was a doctor. Thanks to this, I had 
to attend a great lanky Teuton officer, who had been 
wounded in the leg. I gradually distinguished a 
certain number of prisoners, among whom I recog- 
nised Leon Deliens and Gaston de Marteau, Privates 
of the nth Line Regiment. Their hands were tied 
behind their backs, their braces cut, and their trousers 
unbuttoned, so that it was impossible for them to 
escape. The same fate awaited me and also my 
companion in distress. I protested energetically in 
German, and this produced a magical effect. An 
officer questioned me and asked me about the position 



Four Hours with the Boches 275 

of the troops at Dixmude. "I am a doctor," I 
replied, " and I know nothing about military questions. 
Even if I could reply, though, I should not, as such 
questions are contrary to the stipulations of The 
Hague Treaty." The officer did not insist. 

In the dark night, an absolute silence reigned, only 
broken now and then by the brief orders of the Chief, 
a Major with a hoarse voice, whose name was von 
Oidtmann. Presently a carriage appeared on the 
road. It was a French Red Cross ambulance car that 
the Boches had captured. The Major sent it to 
Dixmude with the order to get to the German lines 
and bring back instructions to him. When the 
carriage reached the bridge, the French sentinel cried 
out: "Halt! Who goes there?" "Red Cross," 
answered the German driver. You can imagine that, 
in an instant, the carriage was surrounded and that, 
one after another, the Boches were taken out. 

In the meantime, the Major and his three Lieuten- 
ants were deliberating in the ditch. By listening to 
their discussions, I gathered that seventy Germans had 
managed to get through our lines at the junction 
between a French and a Belgian trench, that they had 
passed through Dixmude, crossed the bridge, and 
rushed along the Caeskerke road like a bomb, passing 
by the relief posts, the various Staffs, and reserves. 
They were now hiding in this ditch, three hundred 
yards away from the railway station, and were awaiting 
the remainder of their Battalion, which did not arrive. 
One or two of the Marine Fusiliers were captured as 
they were passing along the road, and a cyclist who 
refused to stop was killed. The time seemed very 
long and the Major was evidently getting impatient, 
for, whilst I was talking to one of my warders, I 



276 Brave Belgians 

overheard him give the following orders: "Shoot the 
prisoners!" I protested and, to my great astonish- 
ment, my warder protested too. "No, " he said, "we 
cannot behave inhumanely, not the doctor!" Know- 
ing the severity of the German discipline, I was 
agreeably surprised at this instance of individuality. 
The young German who protested was charming. 
He was a Berlin law-student, and several of his 
university friends protested with him, so that the 
order was not carried out. 

Presently, the Germans got up, and endeavoured to 
advance, but the head of their column came to a 
trench occupied by the Marine Fusiliers. A few shots 
were exchanged and the troop, after crossing a field, 
went in the direction of the railway line. There we 
made another halt and, for the second time, the order 
was given: "Shoot the prisoners!" The order was 
not executed this time, probably thanks to the inter- 
vention of a German soldier, who was a doctor. He 
had introduced himself to me whilst we were marching 
and he told me that he should speak to the army 
doctor. 

The Germans now saw that their comrades had 
not been able to follow them and that their only 
chance of safety was to go back, by the railway bridge, 
across the Yser, and get to their own lines again. We 
went over the railway line from Caeskerke to Dixmude 
and were only twenty yards away from the armoured 
train which they did not see. We walked along in 
silence, two by two, with our warders on guard. 
Presently we came to a group of about fifteen Germans 
who were behind a mill and we all lay down on the 
ground. Four shrapnels burst over our heads. A 
young sailor had his leg shot through. Deliens 



Four Hours with the Boches 277 

dressed the wound quickly. A German said in a 
mocking tone: "Good German shrapnels!" This 
was true. We set off again and for more than two 
hours we walked across fields, jumping hedges, ditches, 
and streams. When we were trying to avoid a stream 
about three yards wide, a German asked : " Is that the 
Yser?" We could not help laughing. We were now 
quite lost and were plodding along in the mud, frozen 
to the bones. The officers went groping along. With 
the help of an electric lamp hidden in their long coats, 
they consulted their maps and the compass. Between 
the Major and his subordinates there were violent 
discussions as to the way we should go. I noticed the 
confidence the Germans have in their chief. Every 
minute we could hear someone asking: "Where is 
the Major?" and he, with brief orders, shouted in a 
hoarse voice, reminding them to pay attention to 
the prisoners, maintained cohesion among his grey 
flock. My poor companions in misfortune, some 
of whom, at my request, were freed, now helped 
each other, dragging along in groups with great 
difficulty. The young soldier who had been 
wounded, leaning on Deliens and de Marteau, trotted 
along courageously, leaving a track of blood behind 
him. 

Several young law and theology students walked 
with me and we conversed in German. They were 
Volunteers of the 202nd Regiment, who had just 
arrived fresh from Berlin and who were under fire for 
the first time. 

"How long do you think the war will last?" they 
asked. 

"Six months, or perhaps more, " I replied. 

"Oh no," they exclaimed, "that is impossible. 



278 Brave Belgians 

"Italy has declared war on France and we have just 
taken 250,000 Russian prisoners. " 

"And do you believe such tales? " I asked. 

"We must believe what we are told." 

When I asked them why they had attacked Belgium, 
I could get no other reply than the one word: 
"Necessity." 

They were surprised, in their turn, that so many 
young men in Belgium were not under arms and they 
were proud of their own patriotism, which, beside the 
compulsory service, had given them 2,000,000 Volun- 
teers. "We have 15,000,000 soldiers," they said. 

"We are through with it, are we not, Doctor?" 
asked an officer in a jeering tone. I simply shrugged 
my shoulders in an evasive way. We were marching 
all the time and when we turned a corner, in the 
darkness, we always ran the risk of coming upon a 
field-gun which would mow down friends or enemies 
alike. From time to time we were grouped. 

A soldier pushed me roughly and I protested. 

"I am an officer, if you please," I said, and oh, 
discipline, he apologised ! 

Another soldier wanted me to carry his bag. I 
refused on the same ground, and he did not insist. 

Gradually, the night became less dark and the dawn 
appeared. It was the pale dawn of a rainy day. 
About seven hundred yards away from us, in the in- 
distinct light, we saw a woman and a child hurrying 
along, laden with packages. A few shots were fired. 

" Gute Leute, " said some men and the firing ceased. 
A similar scene took place farther on, when a man 
and a woman appeared at the door of a farm-house. 
It was now light, as it was 5.30. The smoking ruins 
of Dixmude could be seen through the mist and this 



Four Hours with the Boches 279 

served as a landmark. We marched on in that direc- 
tion, wondering whether this might prove our salva- 
tion or our misfortune. A discussion began between 
the Major and one of his Lieutenants. In the midst 
of it, there was a volley fired from a Belgian trench 
which brought down five Germans. A brief command 
was given : 

"Right about face and quick march!" With 
bayonets behind us, we had to beat a retreat. Some 
shots were fired from a farm and bullets whizzed 
through the air. We were certainly within the line 
of the Allies. The Major gave orders that the 
prisoners should march in front of the Germans. 
Fifteen of us formed the first rank. My companion 
on the right, Frigate Captain Jeanniot, explained to 
me that, on seeing the Boches, he had come towards 
them to parley, with a Belgian, as interpreter, and 
he had invited them to surrender. He had been made 
a prisoner. 

"They are turning round, they are lost, " remarked 
a soldier. 

Our position was most dangerous, as firing was 
directed against us from every farm. 

A German fell and I moved towards him, but a 
brief order: "Vorwaerts!" and the threat of a pistol 
stopped me. The unfortunate man, holding out his 
hand and imploring help, was left to his fate, without 
a word of encouragement or of consolation. Decidedly 
that Major was a brute. We were just passing by 
Major Hellebaut's Belgian Battery and we should 
certainly have been greeted with firing, if it had not 
been for Lieutenant de Wilde, who discovered, just 
in time, that there were Allies' uniforms in the enemy 
group. The situation was most critical, as our 



280 Brave Belgians 

warders were more and more occupied with replying 
to the firing of our men. This was our moment of 
neck or nothing. My stretcher-bearer and the French 
sailor whom I had led into the fray followed my lead. 
I moved along gradually, more and more slowly, 
until I reached the rear and then sank down in a 
trench that was not very deep. Nothing happened, 
as no one had noticed our disappearance. We got 
away by crawling along and then with a few bounds 
we were soon out of reach. We were saved 1 

This account is completed by the soldier Leon 
Deliens. 

"Just at this moment," said the latter, "a German 
officer shouted: 'What must we do with the 
prisoners? ' " 

"Shoot them dead!" replied another. A shot was 
fired at Commander Jeanniot, who was not hit. It 
was a terrible moment. Our warders hurried us along 
and pushed us about. They had lost their heads and, 
after taking a roundabout way, they were going 
towards Dixmude. Suddenly an energetic firing 
began and the German ranks suffered severely. The 
Major assembled his men and someone, I cannot say 
whether he or a Lieutenant, gave the order: "Shoot 
the prisoners dead!" Each soldier chose a prisoner. 
Their bayonets pierced the defenceless breasts of their 
victims and shots were fired point-blank. 

My executioner aimed at me, his gun on his hip. 
I flung myself down on the ground and the bullet 
passed over my head. I got up again and, with a 
bound, rushed off some forty yards. My shoes sank 
in the mud and I fell down again with my head in the 
mud. The next bullet must have missed me, as I did 



Four Hours with the Boches 281 

not feel any wound. There was a veritable hailstorm 
of bullets and, when I looked up, the Boches were 
beating a retreat. The Major was giving his com- 
mands, but in a hoarse voice. I saw the French 
rushing out to assault and I was between two fires. 
The soil flew into the air, wounded men were howling 
with pain, and I could hear the death rattle of our 
poor comrades who had been assassinated. There 
was a medley of blue, black, and grey uniforms. A 
fit of furious anger took possession of me. I sprang 
up, seized a German gun and fired the three cartridges 
that the weapon contained. I waved my forage cap 
towards the French who were hurrying along. One 
of them fell ; I seized his gun with its bayonet and, in 
mad, indescribable rage, animated by an irresistible 
thirst for revenge, I rushed forward and confronted 
Major von Oidtmann. He was still shouting, holding 
his riding-whip in one hand and his Browning in the 
other. I must own that he was braver than ever at 
that moment. I plunged my bayonet into his left 
side, under his heart, and he fell down all in a lump. 

The scene then changed and the Boches surrendered, 
holding up their hands, imploring mercy and offering 
money. My comrade, de Marteau (spared by good 
luck, as a bullet had pierced his forage cap), and I 
took some prisoners with us and returned, very much 
astonished at coming out of this skirmish safe and 
sound. 

By Admiral Ronarc'h's order, the Germans we 
recognised as having fired on the prisoners were shot. 
Of the seventy Boches who had crossed the Dixmude 
bridge twenty-five were living. Of the fifteen 
prisoners they had taken, all the French were either 
killed or wounded. The poor young sailor who had 



282 Brave Belgians 

been wounded in the leg was killed outright by the 
Germans, and a soldier of the Belgian Engineers was 
massacred. 

I never think of those frightful hours that we 
passed without a feeling of deep admiration for the 
stoic patience, the contemptuous silence, and the 
indifference to death of Commander Jeanniot and of 
all my unfortunate companions. 



CHAPTER XXVin 
The Tervaete Charge 

By Artillery Captain M C 

(In memory of Major Count Henri d'Oultremont.) 

Refusing stubbornly to budge from the Yser, the 
Belgian army was struggling desperately with the 
enemy, making a frantic effort to hold on to the last 
shred of its beloved country. The valiant little army 
had been asked to hold out for forty-eight hours in the 
gigantic and unequal combat in which it was engaged. 
It had done this, but relief had not come, and the 
fierce battle had now lasted five days. The defenders 
of their country had now decided to die at this spot 
rather than yield. 

The stubborn fight had so undermined the strength 
of the heroic army that it was now like a wrestler, 
out of breath and at the last gasp, only sustained by 
the extreme tension of his nerves and the force of a 
fixed idea. The army was short of ammunition and of 
reserves. It consisted now of a meagre line of almost 
exhausted men, tired in every limb, but making a last 
desperate effort. It seemed probable that, under a 
formidable push of the Germans, some point would 
give way and cause disaster along the whole of the 
rest of the line. 

283 



284 Brave Belgians 

The Germans continued unceasingly to harass our 
wearied troops with their machine-guns and with 
fresh assaults until, finally, at Tervaete they managed 
to break through our line. When once the breach 
was made, the stream rushed in like a wild torrent, 
gaining the left bank of the river and driving back 
our Battalions in disorder. With a frightful whirl, 
everything gave way before the massed effort of the 
enemy. A furious, mute, desperate counter-attack 
was crushed and wasted in this gulf of death. It was 
simply stifled and mown down by the deadly work of 
two hundred machine-guns. 

There was then a moment of terrible anguish 
experienced along the whole line. Our troops had 
fallen back, without yielding, and were thronging 
together, forming two wings on the Yser, at the ex- 
tremities of the huge bend where the Germans had 
broken through the defence. 

This fresh front was like a fragile rampart of earth 
piled up in haste before a powerful torrent, a rampart 
which would surely fall away under the rush of the 
waters, as fast as it was built up. There was no 
longer any organised unity of action. Each one was 
fighting on his own account. It was an amalgamation 
of horrible looking men, all covered with mud and 
with blood, their faces blackened by the smoke of 
explosions. They no longer looked like human beings. 
As they fought there, with haggard eyes and weary 
arms, it was more like a vision of hell, lighted up for 
a moment by the wan flashes from the guns. We 
wondered what would happen? Was this to be the 
end of everything? In front of us, the attack was 
still coming along in constant and ever-increasing 
waves, with an ominous roaring, beating down our 



The Tervaete Charge 285 

crumbling human wall with furious shocks. Could our 
army possibly resist these endless assaults? 

Just at this moment, the order arrived for this 
spectre of a troop to take the offensive and, by means 
of a general counter-attack, to fling the enemy back, 
at any cost, on the other side of the river. The in- 
structions given were in the following simple words: 
"Your charge must be a wild rush." 

The order passed through the dislocated ranks like 
an electrical current. A thrill of glory was felt by 
every man in the line. The blackened faces looked 
up once more and turned pale under the masks of 
blood and dirt, and all eyes flashed once more with a 
superhuman light. A splendid thing was then seen, 
a thing that seems incredible in its grandeur. All 
these wavering fragments of an army suddenly 
formed up again in a solid block. In the fresh ranks, 
each man took his place just where he happened to be. 
Wounded men got up from the ground and wedged 
their way into the mass to increase the weight. 
From the nearest Sectors, troops rushed forward and 
mixed with the others. And then the whole newly 
formed line moved forwards, with great difficulty at 
first, making a formidable effort under the hurricane 
of fire. Then a wild rush took place and, with a 
bound, they were there in the Prussian lines; foot- 
soldiers, cavalrymen, pioneers, gunners, soldiers, 
and officers, valid or crippled, all had flung themselves 
pele-mele on their enormous adversary, going straight 
ahead in the breaches that opened before them and 
their bayonets. Here and there, in the chaos of 
mingled troops, a clearer line marked the points where 
the neighbouring troops had rushed in to reinforce 



286 Brave Belgians 

them. In some places, thanks to the impulsion of 
fresh energy, salient points could be seen pushing 
forward and leading on the rest. And, in the midst of 
the fray, above the roaring din of the battle, one cry 
could be heard, one conquering cry, uttered as though 
by one voice coming from three thousand men, a cry 
that grew louder and louder, swelling as it were under 
the influence of its own frenzy, a cry that could be 
heard over all the plain, like the rumbling of a wild 
storm : ' ' Long live the King ! Long live Belgium ! " 

The first enemy line was driven back under the 
sudden rush. Behind it, the second line gave way, 
and then each wave driven back drove back the 
following one, and there was general disorder among 
the German troops. It was a carnage for which there 
are no words. There was no longer any question of 
numbers or of tactics. Only one thing was evident 
now, a mysterious and all-powerful thing, the force 
of a will stronger than death itself, dominating all 
material things. 

The Germans, disconcerted by the suddenness of 
all this, were seized with panic. With an irresistible 
effort, our panting, breathless soldiers, veritable 
phantoms of death, crushed all resistance. In their 
rush forward, without a second's hesitation and in their 
continued rush, they had driven back the enemy 
masses as far as the Yser; they pushed them to the 
brink and then into the river itself. Half dead them- 
selves with their superhuman effort, they reoccupied 
the dyke and — the last shred of Belgian territory 
was saved. 



CHAPTER XXIX 
A Reconnaissance 

From the Diary of Father Henusse, S. J. f Chaplain of the 
84.TH Battery 

November 28, 1914. This morning, our dear Cap- 
tain had just begun reading the daily orders, when he 
suddenly exclaimed : 

"Ah, no, it begins to get on one's nerves! This 
footbridge is a regular see-saw. We cannot go on 
being fooled like this! " He threw the paper down on 
the table and went out of the room. Something was 
evidently on his nerves. 

I picked up the paper and read that, contrary to the 
aviation information received the last few days, there 
was a footbridge across the Yser, between the mile- 
stones 15 and 16, on a level with the petroleum tanks 
and opposite the "Nacelle." This was the tenth 
time we had been informed that this bridge existed, 
and just as many times we had been told that it did 
not exist. We were first ordered to destroy it with 
shells and then to stop firing there, as the objective 
was an imaginary one. This little game had unhinged 
our Captain, and this morning he was more unhinged 
than I had ever seen him. When he came back, I 
saw by his face that it was one of the days of his big 
decisions. He was extremely reserved, and appeared 

287 



288 Brave Belgians 

to have his ideas concentrated on some subject. He 
did not utter a word and I said to myself, "Either our 
Captain is going to fulminate a ' note ' or he is going to 
investigate that footbridge himself." I had guessed 
rightly. He put on his boots and gaiters, placed his 
Browning behind his hip and his field-glasses in his 
breast-pocket, took up his cap, and made his exit, 
without even uttering his famous: " Au revoir, my 
friends." 

It was ten in the morning, and a regular November 
morning, grey, cold, and damp, but as a matter of 
fact no one took much notice of the weather. All 
day long we were inside the infamous little farm that 
we had nicknamed "Taboo Farm" because, in the 
midst of a plain ravaged by shells, it was the only 
building that had remained intact. Two or three 
"saucepans" had fallen in the farmyard, shattering 
all the windows, but that was all. We replaced the 
window-panes by planks of wood and mattresses and 
lived in a little cavern-like room, sitting round a 
cracked stove, in which we only burned wood. As 
to showing our faces outside, that was not good 
enough. In the first place there was the mud, the 
terrible "polder mud," slimy, deep, and clinging. 
After walking ten steps, one came back with enormous 
cakes of about twenty pounds on each foot. And then 
there were the petroleum tanks, the two enormous 
tanks over yonder in the background of the Yser. 
They dominated the whole region in its autumn bare- 
ness and were like two sentinels of Death. For the 
last month they had been riddled by the firing, and 
the petroleum had flamed up. Oh, the fine flames, 
lighting up with a glorious fire the Dixmude victory ! 
These tanks were now full of holes like sieves. One 



A Reconnaissance 289 

of them had given way and fallen in, but the other 
one was still standing and made an admirable obser- 
vation-post for the enemy's artillery, so that we did 
not care to attract their terrible "saucepans" in the 
direction of "Taboo Farm." 

At noon, our Chief had not returned. We waited 
luncheon until one o'clock and then we decided not to 
wait any longer. The inevitable soup, made of 
preserved peas, and the pneumatic-tyre beefsteak 
disgusted me a little more than usual. I was feeling 
very anxious about the Captain. I made enquiries 
two or three times at the battery, but the same reply 
came each time: "We have not seen him since this 
morning, when he came to give the command of the 
battery over to the Lieutenant." 

Towards three in the afternoon, the door was 
opened noisily and in he walked. He looked tired out, 
but his eyes were feverishly bright. He was all be- 
starred with mud and, half joyfully, half wearily, in a 
way not at all like himself, he sank on to a chair. 

"Well, I always said so, " he remarked. "There is 
no footbridge, but, my boys, it came very near there 
being no Captain either." . . . "What happened? 
Tell us!" we all begged, crowding round him. "Give 
me a beefsteak first. I am dying of hunger. And some 
coffee, too, for I am parched with thirst. " 

He then took his boots off, pitching one to the right 
and the other to the left, and his gaiters anywhere. 

"There!" he said, at last. "I have been myself, 
for I had had enough of that nonsense. Lieutenant 
Zaeydydt, Brigadier Marteau, and I set off together. 
We could not stand that sort of thing any longer and 
I was determined to get to the bottom of it, if we had to 
go right there ourselves. Things went all right as far 
19 



290 Brave Belgians 

as the Yser, to the milestone 16. The last of the 
trenches occupied by the French Territorials are 
there, but we could not discover anything that was 
of any use to us. Looking out from there, towards the 
north, on a level with the tanks, there was something 
that looked like a footbridge over the Yser, but it 
was not distinct enough for us to be sure about it and 
we decided to go on along the river. 

Just then, the French howitzers opened fire on the 
tanks : all the firing was from eighty to one hundred 
yards too far. Suddenly our good little eighty-four 
began to spit. You cannot imagine the pleasure it 
gave us to hear it quite near to its target. It was 
hitting a ruined house and each shot entered straight 
inside. It was the famous wine-shop, where we had 
been told there was a battery. All rubbish! There 
was no more a battery there than there is on my hand. 
All the same the firing was good. 

"We left the Territorials and went on, half crawling. 
We made good progress along the river just below 
the towpath. A hundred yards farther on were two 
French sentinels, who wished us good luck, and then 
two Belgian sentinels belonging to the 2nd Chasseurs. 
We could see nothing but their heads emerging from a 
hole, and after this we met no one. To the left, was a 
great sheet of inundation, to the right, was the Yser, 
and beyond, apparently nothing but deserted ruins. 
We kept on our way and, presently, came up against a 
huge tree lying on the ground and barring the tow- 
path. We had to go round this obstacle and we first 
passed behind the ruins of a little house, built on the 
roadside. We were now advancing towards the 
inundation. It was all terrible. Ruins of houses 
broke the surface of the lake here and there. Some- 



A Reconnaissance 291 

times we saw the dead bodies of horses and of cows 
there, too. There was also a dead man, a poor young 
Belgian Chasseur. He must have been there since 
the Dixmude battle. He was fair-haired, half buried 
in the mud, his gun under his arm and his head thrown 
back, so that his pointed beard was skyward and he 
was wearing an eyeglass. We were now once more on 
the towpath and were a little nearer the famous foot- 
bridge. It was only a hundred yards from us. We 
stood still and at once understood. On looking at the 
map, you will see on the left bank of the Yser the two 
petroleum tanks near the towpath, where we then 
were. On the right bank is the "Nacelle," as indi- 
cated on the map, but at this spot, 150 yards above the 
tanks, the Yser makes a bend and, consequently, 
what is at the water's edge on the left bank looks, 
from where we are, as though it were on the right 
bank. Now on the left, starting from the tanks and 
projecting over the river, are two big pipes, by means 
of which the boats get the petroleum on board, and 
these two pipes, seen projecting on the right bank, 
are what had been taken for a footbridge, and it is 
on this imaginary footbridge that we have been firing 
like imbeciles. 

"Farther on, there is a footbridge facing the road 
which crosses the last 'e' of Oudstuyvekenskerke on 
the map. Just as we had taken note of this, we 
heard ' Bzim ! Bzim ! Bzim ! ' and a whole collection of 
balls broke up the ground around us. We threw 
outselves flat down first, and then began to concert. 
Where had they come from was the first question. 
It was not possible to decide that, but, instinctively, 
we suspected the petroleum tanks and the terrible 
house with turrets, to the left of the petroleum tanks, 



292 Brave Belgians 

and the cemented cellar, between the house and the 
tanks, where we could see the black mouths of the 
loopholes. We decided to rush along the towpath 
and bury ourselves in the deserted trenches along the 
bank sloping down to the river. We went along like 
three zebras. 'Bzim! Bzim! Bzim!' We were in 
our holes though — for our refuge was not a regular 
trench, but separate holes made for single riflemen 
and divided by earth. 

" Zaeydydt was in one hole, Marteau in another, and 
I in a third, separated from each other by the distance 
of a yard to a yard and a half. We were quiet for a 
few minutes, getting our breath again, and then we 
began a fresh consultation, without being able to see 
each other. As there were about twenty of these 
holes, we decided that we would each spring out, 
turn round on our stomachs, so that our legs should 
drop into the next hole, and then slip down bodily 
into it. This we did, and the Boches must have had 
an amusing sight if they were watching us. Three 
men springing out of a hole, pirouetting on their 
stomachs, and disappearing into the next hole. Each 
time we were greeted by the same volley, 'Bzim! 
Bzim! Bzim!' 

"I now know something of the sensations of my 
rabbit-brothers, when the shooting season commences. 
Just at that moment, I remembered that I had not 
said a word to our chaplain, our dear, good chaplain, 
before starting on this expedition. I regretted this, 
but at the same time I did not know what I could 
have said to him. 

"We reached our last shelters in this way. The 
Lieutenant joined me in my hole. He was laughing 
like a lunatic, but I was not laughing at all. 



A Reconnaissance 293 

"'Marteau! Brigadier Marteau!' I called out. 
There was no reply. 

"Good Heavens! Had he been hit at the last 
hole?' 

"'Marteau!' I called again and a voice that 
sounded a long way off replied, 'Captain!' 

'"Are you whole, my boy?' 

'"Yes, Captain.' 

'"Well played then! Now listen. The tree that 
lies across the road is fifty yards from us. We are 
going to run to it at full speed, jump over it, and lie 
down behind it to get our breath again. The Lieuten- 
ant will lead off.' 

"DeZaeydydt started and bullets whizzed through 
the air and exploded. He reached the tree, got mixed 
up in the branches, and rolled on the ground. I thought 
he had been hit and I shuddered. He got up again, 
cleared the tree, and disappeared. I said to myself, 
1 My dear boy, } r ou are too short to scale that. You 
had better go round the tree again and the house.' 
' Marteau,' I called out, 'I am going to start. Follow 
me.' I sprang out. Marteau followed me and there 
was a shower of bullets, but our hour had not yet 
come — and we got through safely. 

"We were very soon in the French trenches and 
the soldiers welcomed us heartily. They had not 
expected to see us again. Our return journey, from 
the time we had seen the first bullet to the last one, 
had taken an hour and twenty minutes. Ah, I forgot 
to tell you that we had taken notes on the map and 
from the last ' e ' of Kaesteelhoek, there was a gleam 
from a Boche battery. That battery will hear from 
us to-morrow!" 

The beefsteak and the coffee now put in an appear- 



294 Brave Belgians 

ance, and our Captain started on his meal like a wolf 
that had been starving for a fortnight in the snow. 
He is now sleeping and I am noting down this souvenir 
of the war, by the side of a fire which is smoking 
badly, as it is raining and raining outdoors. . . . 

December 6, 1914. Great joy at our battery. Our 
Captain has received the Order of Leopold for his 
fine reconnaissance, November 28, 1914, on the Yser. 



CHAPTER XXX 
The Irony of Fate 

By M. Sadsawska, Civic Guard, Motorcyclist of the ist 
Line Regiment 

We were occupying the Dixmude Sector. Our 
trenches were hollowed out in the road which skirts 
the Yser, and the Regiment was sheltering in the 
centre of a vast horseshoe-shaped curl, traced by the 
river among the meadow grasses. The scenery was 
dolefully sad. Beyond a row of century-old trees, or 
rather of poor trunks of trees bewailing their scathed 
branches, which seemed to be mounting guard around 
our shelters, the ruins of a railway bridge stood out, 
half hidden in the water. On the embankment, sur- 
rounded by broken and twisted telegraph poles, and 
festoons of wires and cables all mixed up, lay a power- 
ful locomotive, which had been overturned, so that 
its wheels were in the air. The melancholiness of the 
site did not disturb our equanimity at all. We were 
full of hopefulness and quite ready to march on 
towards the piles of fallen roofs, gaping houses, and 
tottering walls of strange shapes, which now consti- 
tuted Dixmude, our old Flemish city. In the misty 
twilight, it seemed to us as though the poor town were 
stretching out its mutilated arms to us, and as though 
the murmur of the wind in the ruins were hailing us. 

295 



296 Brave Belgians 

"Courage, courage, come!" it seemed to say. 

Alas ! the few hundred yards of verdure, which our 
thoughts and our wishes cleared only too willingly, 
hid the entrenchments and the redoubts of the enemy. 
Every night, the bravest of our men started out 
patrolling, endeavouring to discover the barbed wire, 
the ambushes, and the traps set for us. Sergeant 
Renson had specially distinguished himself for his 
daring and his sang-froid. He was naturally of an 
adventurous nature and was an excellent soldier. 
In spite of his mature age, he had joined the col- 
ours as a volunteer at the very beginning of the 
war. 

He was anxious to find out whether some informa- 
tion he had obtained on a preceding expedition was 
exact, as it was very difficult on these ink-black nights 
to distinguish the real from the imaginary. He, 
therefore, expressed a wish to carry out a reconnais- 
sance alone, and by daylight, in the direction of the 
enemy's lines. "I am not afraid of death," he said 
to his chiefs. "I have always lived in my own way 
and I now want to carry out this plan. I am free to 
risk my own skin and, as I am forty-two years old, I 
should not be any great loss." He was finally allowed 
to do as he wished. 

He went along a narrow, long passage, until he 
came to the edge of the Yser, just where a few planks 
formed a raft. This means of transport was invaluable 
at night, but could not be used by daylight, as the 
enemy was on the watch. Renson could not swim. 
That did not trouble him and he crossed the current 
clinging to a cable. Accustomed as he was to all 
kinds of difficulties, this was mere child's play to him. 
He reached the other side, slipped into a big sack 



The Irony of Fate 297 

covered with grass and flowers, and, under this mantle 
of verdure, crawled along dexterously. 

Our emotion was intense in the trenches. All eyes 
were watching him, there was not a single loophole 
unoccupied. 

Under the rays of the sun, we saw this moving 
grass crossing the meadow. It advanced, fell back, 
turned, stopped, appeared and disappeared, according 
to the undulations of the soil. Our hero was gaining 
ground. He was observing in his own defiant way, 
braving death itself. Nothing daunted him, nothing 
seemed to affect him. He was there, moving about 
in front of the enemy's line. Our hearts were beating 
wildly. Every time that a bullet whizzed along, it 
was anguish to us, and each minute seemed eternal. 

Finally Renson turned round and, slowly and 
methodically, began to wend his way back. After a 
few yards more he would be in safety. We saw him 
on the crest of the bank. He glided into the water, 
crossed the stream, entered the narrow passage, and 
was soon back in the trenches, contented and happy, 
bringing with him valuable information. And this 
man, who had thus braved death, laughed heartily, as 
he gave us flowers from the German trenches. He 
then went to his shelter and prepared his report, 
tracing in full detail the daring itinerary he had chosen. 
The Commander questioned him on some point and, 
in order to explain better and to show the exact spot, 
they both approached a loophole in a commu- 
nication trench. The Sergeant pointed with his 
finger to the spot in the meadow where the enemy was 
observing. A few seconds later and he was moving 
away. . . . Malediction! 

There was a cruel whizzing sound and Renson was 



298 Brave Belgians 

dead. His skull had been pierced and he fell to the 
ground, the earthen wall bespattered with his generous 
blood. 

At Alveringhem, in a peaceful country cemetery, in 
a grave covered with flowers and surmounted by a 
large cross, lies Adjutant Renson, Knight of the 
Order of Leopold II. who died for his country. 



CHAPTER XXXI 
Observers 

By Artillery Captain M . . . C . . . 

Leaning on my beam, I looked out into the night. 
It was a beautiful winter night, dreamy and peaceful. 
A vague gleam of moonlight hovered over the serene 
space, touching the fleecy clouds which were floating 
in the sky. And yet everything was sad with an 
infinite sadness. 

From the summit on which I was perched, I looked 
out on every side on an immense horizon, and on 
every side it was a desert of death and desolation. 
In front of me were the Germans. Five hundred 
yards separated us from their outposts and that was 
the only side where there was no water. To the right, 
to the left, and behind us was the inundation, a great 
humid street, which, as far as the eye could see, shone 
strangely under the wan moonbeams, a weird shroud, 
covering, in its icy folds, thousands of corpses buried 
in the mud. Here and there, a dark spot could be 
seen in the water. It was all that remained of a farm, 
a charred, crumbling skeleton, or there was a dead 
beast breaking through the winding-sheet, or a human 
corpse turning its grimacing face to the moon. There 
were two, not far away from me, that I knew well. 

299 



300 Brave Belgians 

For some months, they had been my daily compan- 
ions. The first one was a German with a ravaged 
face, showing all its teeth in a horrible grin. The 
other one was a Belgian. Only the face emerged and 
the water splashed round it, leaving green shreds on 
its grey cheeks. A dark bird was poised on its nose, 
pecking at its gnawed eye sockets. Oh, shades of 
heroes! Can the glory that surrounds you with its 
halo not cover the remains of your poor profaned 
bodies? 

There was a deadly calm and the cold wind made 
the trembling reeds rustle. Every breeze brought me 
a whiff of fulsome decay. Nothing broke the silence, 
except the funereal croaking of the birds of prey and 
the wail of the sea-gulls, which kept hovering in long 
nights over the deserted space. Oh, the sadness and 
the infamy of war ! This then is your work, oh brutal 
and barbarous force, the rights of which men dare in 
our days still affirm and glorify ! 

Presently, some stealthy footsteps were to be 
heard. It was the guard being relieved. On the long 
footbridge, which was all that united our men with 
the outpost, a line of silent figures passed. A flash 
was to be seen, lighting up the darkness, and this was 
immediately followed by about twenty shots. The 
troop passed underneath my observation post. There 
was a fresh flash, and a bullet struck the wall under 
my feet. There was a cry followed by a long groan. 
It was a wounded man. He was carried away and 
the others went on to occupy the trenches. 

Our order here had been to hold out to the very 
death. Retreat was impossible anyhow. To be 
convinced of this, one had only to look at the immense 



Observers 301 

stretch of water which separated us from our first 
lines, that dark band in the distant horizon. 

The change of guard was scarcely finished when I 
heard a well-known strain coming from afar. It was 
a "saucepan" on its way: " Ou-ou-ou-ou ! ..." It 
was a fifteen calibre. 

"Boom!" It exploded five yards away from me, 
covering me with mud. It was the moment when 
every man crouches down in his shelter, but, for the 
observer, it was the moment to see something and to 
get up higher, if possible, in order to gaze out at the 
land around. A second shot was to be heard and, so 
far, I had seen nothing. An infernal noise shook the 
building under me. That was charming. I sent my 
two aids to get under cover and I fixed a certain spot 
in the darkness. Ah, there was a gleam of light. 
Quick, I had to place it, whilst the projectile was on 
its way. This was aimed too far. It passed like a 
whirlwind over my head. Quick with the telephone! 
Good, we are going to reply. Thirty seconds later, 
a volley started from us, and now the concert began 
in earnest. An enemy battery answered our firing. 
On our side, a second one was brought into action, 
and this bombarded the German post in front of me. 
Presently, there was a deafening noise on all sides. 
I could no longer hear the German projectiles, but red 
flashes and formidable shocks warned me that we 
were coming in for it. 

I shouted my observations to the telephonist, 
who could scarcely hear me a storey lower. Finally 
the battery which was firing on us was reduced to 
silence. Others went on firing, but slackened down 
and, at the end of an hour, there was dead si- 
lence again, broken only by bullets which, from 



302 Brave Belgians 

one trench to the other, were fired in search of 

victims. 

When my time had expired, I went down below and 
was surprised to see my brave Lienart at the side of 
the ladder. He had been observing too. Instead of 
getting under cover, during the storm, he had come 
up to help in case of need. As to the telephonist, 
Cornez, I found him crouching down near his appara- 
tus. "No chance of going to sleep here!" he said, on 
seeing me. And as it was his turn, he went up to take 
my place. 

I threw myself down on my "flea sack" (the name 
answered to the reality in this case) and I slept the 
sleep of the observer, which had now become a habit 
with me. That is, I had one ear closed and the other 
listening to every sound. I kept my boots on, my 
pistol and cartridge case at my side, and my carbine 
within reach. 

Suddenly, a bullet passed quite near, with that 
special click peculiar to shots fired at a short distance. 
A volley of shots then came, flattening themselves 
against the walls. We were all quickly on the alert. 
I went to look out at the observation post. It was 
probably an enemy patrol wandering about. Three 
men offered to go out in search of this and quickly 
started off, crawling along in the darkness. A few 
shots were exchanged and then all was quiet. The 
German patrol had withdrawn. 

When I returned to my post, I felt suddenly chilly. 
I lighted a few pieces of wood in my brick oven and 
cooked three sweet potatoes over the cinders. This 
had been our usual meal since we had been at this 
observation post. 



Observers 303 

Gradually, whilst the wood was crackling and 
Cornez, who had been relieved, was snoring near me, 
I began to think of my home and of my old parents, 
who were watching and waiting so far away. I 
thought, too, of the beloved convent which I had left 
for this war, and of the strange contrast between this 
adventurous life and the serene life of the cloister. 

For five months, we had been going from ruin to 
ruin in the midst of the inundation, trying to find a 
fresh post among the putrid waters, as soon as the 
shells had reduced the preceding one to a heap of ruins. 
A hundred times death had hovered over us, and a 
hundred times shells had paid us their gracious visits, 
in the very rooms in which we were living. It was all 
in vain, though, for we were "vaccinated." 

As to our diet, it was worthy of Robinson Crusoe. 
What did it all matter! We were inured now to 
hunger, thirst, cold, and weariness. The worst of 
everything was the rain. It was all in vain that we 
struggled to protect our shelter. The bombardment 
soon played havoc with the roof and then the water 
was hopeless. It was no use thinking of sleep. Drop 
by drop, the rain would first come through a crack in 
the ceiling. . . . "Toe! . . . toe! . . . toe!" . . . 
We would put a basin down for it. A second little 
streamlet would commence. Down would go our 
saucepan for that. Then other streamlets would be- 
gin, and we would follow them all up with receptacles. 
We changed the places of our mattresses. It was all 
in vain, as very soon the deluge began again. Among 
all this ceaseless spotting, each drop competed with 
the other in making the clearest sound and the 
quickest drip: " Ticlictacpictoctoc " . . . 

"Tu-u-u-u-u!" the one in the middle would say, for 



304 Brave Belgians" 

it had suddenly found a way to make one steady 
stream. That one certainly deserved the prize, and 
we gave it the honour of having the big saucepan to 
receive it. Finally, we resigned ourselves to the 
inevitable. We had our feet in a pool, water on our 
clothes, water on our heads, gradually dripping down 
our necks, and our mattresses full of water. There 
was only one thing left for us to do, and that was to 
put on our big coats and to let it go on raining, to 
shut our eyes and dream (with the joyful concert of 
the drip, drip going on) of all that life has that is 
beautiful, great, and good, provided all this be conse- 
crated to some holy cause. 

Just as dawn was appearing, I had an agreeable 
visit in my lonely hermitage. My old comrade, 

Lieutenant de W , had come here to observe in 

his turn. He was accompanied by his two faithful 
followers, Quartermaster Snysters, an old Antwerp 
friend, who had gone through the Retreat with me, 
and Gunner Frentzen. How am I to describe 
Frentzen? Imagine a tall, bony, roughly-hewn Flem- 
ish man of six feet, with a surly look and two small, 
keen eyes, constantly lighting up with a smile. 
Frentzen had been taken prisoner by the Germans. 
The first night, he went and found the sentinel, killed 
him with his fists, and then, smoking his pipe, returned 
calmly to his Lieutenant. My two Flemish friends 
are inseparable. They insult each other from morn- 
ing to night and are always in search of some adven- 
turous exploit. They go roving about in the midst of 
the inundations, right to the outposts, under the very 
noses of the Boches. 

The newcomers received a hearty welcome and de 
W and I stirred up, not only the fire, but all our 



Observers 305 

old memories, by way of cheering ourselves. Whilst we 
were chatting, his two companions had been laying 
their plans. Frentzen came ambling up to us, scratch- 
ing the back of his neck. 

"Lieutenant," he began, "if we could just have a 
look in at the little farm over yonder?" 

1 ' The farm ? That one ? Why, it's full of Boches. ' ' 

"The 'Bosses'!" exclaimed Frentzen, with superb 
disdain. "We can put a few bullets into them. " 

De W and I roared with laughter at his 

expression. 

"Right," said my friend. "You can go, but be 
prudent." 

Snysters favoured me with a wink that was full of 
eloquence and shrugged his shoulders slightly, and 
the two men set out on their expedition. 

An hour later they returned, wet through, covered 
with mud, and accusing each other of being milksops, 
cowards, and using various other complimentary 
epithets, such as only the Flemish language can render 
with sufficient emphasis. Frentzen's pocket had been 
pierced by a bullet. Snysters had had one through his 
cap. A minute or two later, Snysters went out of the 
room and Frentzen came a few steps nearer and 
remarked, confidentially : 

"Lieutenant, Snysters, he doesn't know what it 
means to be afraid of anything, but he's a bit . . ." 

Frentzen winked and touched his own forehead. 

"You understand, Lieutenant." 

"Yes, yes, I know him well." 

Frentzen went away and when Snysters came back, 
he drew his chair up and remarked: 

"Lieutenant, that Frentzen's a chap with plenty of 
nerve, but," hereupon he tapped his forehead with 



306 Brave Belgians 

a knowing expression, "a bit touched here, you 

know." 

"Yes, yes, I know. . . ." 

A little while later, they went off again, arm in 
arm, insulting each other more than ever, but on the 
lookout for fresh adventures. 

The bombardment recommenced at an early hour. 
It began with volleys of 77's, those miserable, ridicu- 
lous 77's. They come along as though they are 
going to smash everything before them, and they 
finish with a poor little "petch" and a bit of pipe 
smoke. 

Parturiunt monies, nascetur ridiculus mus. 

Cornez, my youngster from Liege, gave a whistling 
accompaniment. Presently the song changed and 
the 105 arrived. The planks of wood which served 
as window-shutters were flung inside the room. In 
front of the building, the footbridge was pulverised. 
That was the fifth time this had happened. There 
would be no chance of going outside and keeping our 
feet dry now. Our guns answered. 

I looked out at the firing zone and was pleased to 
see that the enemy battery was well encircled. It 
continued in spite of this, and as a matter of fact, we 
were no less encircled than they were. 

I went downstairs to go to the telephone. I was 
only just there, when a formidable explosion flung a 
whole collection of bricks and rubbish behind me 
and I was in the midst of a cloud of dust. I looked up 
and saw that there was nothing left of my observa- 
tion post. A huge breach in the wall showed where 

the brutal visitor had just entered. De W came 

running to me, delighted to see me whole. 

"I fancy there are too many prayers being said 



Observers 3°7 

for you," he remarked, "for the shells to be able to 
touch you." 

"I have been vaccinated," I replied. 

After all this, we had a good night's work before us, 
as we were obliged to build the place up again. And 
that was not all. That satanic 105 was warming up 
with its work. The footbridge was smashed in 
several places. It would be difficult for the relief at 
night, and, by way of a climax, the telephone was 
silent, as the wire was cut. Good, we were completely 
isolated from the rest of the world. For the moment 
there was nothing to be done, so we sat down and 
began talking, knowing that there was every possi- 
bility of our conversation finishing up above, in the 
presence of St. Peter. 

Towards noon, there was a lull and we were able 
to repair the telephone wire. As soon as we were in 
communication once more with our comrades in the 
rear, the first thing they asked was whether we were 
all dead. 

We then cooked some more sweet potatoes, put the 
platform up again, and then the f£te began once more, 
and this time continued until night. 

Just when it was beginning to grow dark, our 
telephone wires broke again. We were now getting 
volleys of shrapnel, which continued all the time, 
covering the ground with hurricanes of lead and iron. 
This foreshadowed an attack. I thought I would go 
and have a look at the trenches. I kept slipping on the 
mud and went splashing through pools of water and 
tumbling into holes, made recently by the shells, 
whilst overhead the wretched volleys kept bursting 
with their sharp, dry din and, at my feet, the bullets 
pierced the ground. 



308 Brave Belgians 

In front of us, nothing could be seen moving. The 
Lieutenant in command of this post was on his guard, 
as he expected an attack. The night was getting 
quickly heavy and dark, so that very soon we could 
distinguish nothing ten yards away from us. Nothing 
could be seen at all but the weird flashes which kept 
lighting up the darkness on all sides, and these seemed 
to be getting more and more furious. "There is 
nothing to fear, at present," I said to my comrade, 
"but as soon as the firing slackens, we must keep a 
sharp lookout.' ' 

"Lieutenant, Lieutenant!" I suddenly heard from 
my post. 

"What is the matter?" 

"Come quick!" 

I returned as quickly as possible. There was no 
light, but a huge hole in the ceiling which let in the 
cold air. On the floor, among all the rubbish, lay a 
man. I turned my light on the face and saw that it 
was my brave friend, Snysters. He was covered with 
blood which was still smoking ; a huge fragment of shell 
had pierced his heart. I examined him to see whether 
he were really dead and I offered up a prayer to God 
for his heroic soul. I then went in search of the 
others. They had taken refuge in a trench. De W. 
was wounded in the wrist. Cornez was still dazed 
by the commotion, and Frentzen was growling and 
swearing in a low voice. 

"Filthy Bosses! Wretched pigs! Poor Snysters! 
Curse them, curse them!" 

Towards 9 o'clock, the bombardment suddenly 
slackened and the Germans extended their firing 
range. A minute later, there was shooting from our 
trenches, and the Germans fired back from quite near 



Observers 309 

to us. Our shooting then became hurried and agitated. 
Attention now for the attack ! I took a fuse and then 
went to our line. What was the meaning of the 
disorder? We were just being relieved. "Halt! 
let no one move until further orders. Every man in 
the trenches." 

I met the fresh commander of the post and we 
concerted for a few seconds. Whilst he threw a fuse 
from the trench to the left, I was to look out with my 
field-glasses at the trench to the right, which appeared 
to be the one threatened. The fuse was thrown and 
the whole country round was bathed in a bright light. 
There was nothing to be seen. Not a man appeared. 
But as I knew every detail of the land by heart, I 
could distinguish, thirty yards in front of us, a long 
line of little heaps that had been newly made. 

The Boches were hollowing out the ground and 
were burying themselves ready for the assault. I 
stopped the firing and ordered absolute silence. In 
the midst of the darkness, we could then hear dis- 
tinctly the rough, brief orders that the Commander 
of the attack was giving in a low voice. Ah, the ras- 
cals, they had come as near to us as that ! Good, we 
will give them something for their trouble. With the 
agreement of the officer in command, I had one of the 
two machine-guns brought from the other salient. 
I then looked out again with my field-glasses; a faint 
moonbeam now lighted up the ground. I could see 
the little heaps and also the spades that were moving 
the earth. Presently a shadow could be seen standing 
up and then two, three, ten figures. I indicated the 
spot to the gunner and he took aim. 

"Fire!" 

The horrible engine of war did its work and, in a 



310 Brave Belgians 

trice, it had mown down all these figures. Five 
minutes later, some more figures rose and these too 
were brought down by the machine-gun. An enemy 
machine-gun now replied to us, but, fortunately, it 
fired too high and too much to the left. For three 
hours, we kept this game up. The Germans were 
nailed to the ground, and each time they attempted to 
get up, they were swept down again by our firing. 
Finally, they retired and disappeared, crawling along 
in the darkness. 

We then went back to our post. A never-to-be- 
forgotten sight awaited us there. Snysters was lying 
in the middle of the room. His face was turned to the 
sky and he was sleeping his long sleep under a beam of 
light. Just above his head, by the gaping breach in 
the ceiling, the moon shed a white ray which sur- 
rounded his face with a halo of glory. It looked very 
pure and very peaceful, and left all the rest of his 
body hidden in dense darkness. I have never seen a 
finer mortuary than the one which the heavens had 
thus raised to this martyr to his country. And it 
seemed to me that the soul of the hero had risen 
gloriously, in this beautiful ray of light, to the king- 
dom above. 

An hour later, the body was taken away. Frentzen 
wrapped it in his own cloak, because it was a better 
one than that of the dead man, and he carried it out 
alone. Whilst he was digging a grave, swearing all 
the time between his teeth, I noticed that he kept 
furtively wiping away his tears. 

When he had finished his task, he came back to 
me. 

"Lieutenant, " he said, " I knew it would happen to 
him. I always told him so. He was always swearing 



Observers 311 

like the devil, it was sure to happen to him. . . . 
Damn! Damn!" 

And swearing away now for two men, instead of 
one, he went on growling quietly. 

Before the dawn, we had again repaired the damage. 
And then the day broke, rosy and smiling, in the limpid 
horizon, lighting up a pile of German corpses and of 
ruins in the midst of our own ruins. And when I had 
gone up to my post once more, a blackbird came and 
perched on the top of the roof and warbled his gay 
song to the echoes. I understood then that only one 
thing matters in our existence, and that is to so order 
one's soul that, high up in the ideal azure, it shall sing 
its song in spite of the storm. It must be a soul 
which, free and strong, shall continue its own way, 
always ready for any struggle, always ready for 
martyrdom, and always ready to rise heavenwards! 

^March, 1915. 



CHAPTER XXXII 
A Patrol 

By Artillery Captain M C 

Everything looked gay that morning at the out- 
posts. The big, radiant sun, saturating the blue 
sky, made the sheet of water sparkle, as it rippled 
along with silvery spangles right up to the enemy 
lines. The ruins of the red roofs and picturesque 
white gables had quite a festive air, reflected in the 
lake which now bathed them. They seemed surprised 
to find themselves in the midst of these moving 
meadows, instead of in the green meadows in which 
they had been accustomed to slumber. In the horizon 
could be seen tints of periwinkle and lilac, which 
seemed to be smiling to the deep blue of the sky. 

The reality of things was by no means so jovial as 
this charming setting. The violet, huge trees, which 
looked so beautiful over yonder, concealed batteries 
which would presently send out death amongst us. 
The gay, white gables had little loopholes where 
wicked guns and machine-guns were waiting in 
readiness. And, under the silvery ripples of the great, 
greenish lake, there were corpses hidden, and ruined 
harvests rotting in the water. Unhappy the human 
being who ventured out into the inundated meadows ! 

312 



A Patrol 313 

He would be caught in the deep, slimy mud, in the 
barbed wire, in the numberless canals which furrowed 
the whole district, and which were treacherously 
concealed under great tufts of reeds. In a very 
short time, bullets and shrapnels would whistle round 
his ears as warning precursors of death. 

Just at the edge of the inundation, two soldiers were 
talking together, as they examined the big farm 
emerging from the water, six hundred yards to the 
north of the post. 

"I tell you there is no one inside. There's nothing 
left but the loopholes. " 

"One never knows with these wretches." 

"The only thing is to go and see." 

"The Sergeant says that the Major, he'd like to 
know what's inside that farm." 

"Well then the only thing is to go and see." 

"Come on then." 

They went in search of the Lieutenant. 

"Lieutenant, can we go out on patrol round the 

N Farm and have a look to see whether there's 

any Boches inside?" 

"On patrol ... in a boat you mean?" 

"We'd make our plans, Lieutenant." 

The Lieutenant was silent a minute. That farm 
puzzled him too, but he was anxious about the lives 
of his men. 

"It's too dangerous," he replied, and soon after he 
moved away. The two men looked at each other. 

"He didn't say No." 

"He said it was dangerous. We know that." 

"Let's go then, shall we?" 

"Yes, we'll go." 

They spotted a big tub lying in a yard. They 



314 Brave Belgians 

emptied it, put it on the water, and set off, each one 
armed with his gun and a pole. The first one, on 
getting in, had some difficulty in balancing himself, 
but for the second one it was still more difficult. 
The tub tossed about, threatening to turn upside 
down. Finally they managed to steady it, and they 
then set sail. With one pole they pushed against the 
bank, and with the other they steadied themselves 
in the muddy lake. The tub then moved on heavily 
and awkwardly, leaning first suddenly to the right, 
then to the left, and then spinning round an invisible 
rotation axis. Our patrol was now upset into the 
water, and the confounded tub, as though proud of its 
exploit, danced about on the ripples with a contented 
air. 

Our two poor rabbits had a struggle. They managed 
to keep their guns above water and, on coming to 
land, they looked at each other and burst out laughing. 
It was evidently impossible for two of them to get 
along in that tub. They went in search of something 
else and presently came back with a trough. This 
was put on the water by the side of the tub. They 
each took their place, with the manoeuvres of tight- 
rope walkers, and the squadron set out to sea. The 
two ships sailed along in the most alarming way. 
The tub, not satisfied with leaning down, first on one 
side and then on the other, jumped about with the 
agility of a stag, in the direction of all the cardinal 
points, and seemed to take the greatest pleasure in 
spinning round with such speed that it looked as 
though it were wound up and would never stop again. 
The unfortunate sailor plunged his pole in the mud. 
The obstinate skiff calmed down, pretended to stop, 
thought it over a second, and then started off in the 



A Patrol 315 

contrary way, with its horrible spinning movement. 
The pole was plunged in again, farther on. The tub 
stopped short, darted into an eddy, and disappeared 
in the water. We, who were watching, uttered a 
cry of fear. Ah, the tub was back again, it had only 
been a pretence. It went on its way once more, 
turning about all the time, more and more turbulent 
and more and more incoherent. 

As to the trough, that was still more awful. It 
made me giddy to look at it. The pilot's pole had to 
do service as pole, oar, and beam. As it was absolutely 
incapable of performing all these functions at the 
same time, the trough had fine sport and made the 
most of it. It went along with such bounds and leaps 
that each time it seemed as though it were turning 
right over and plunging under the water. It went 
on more and more quickly, always by fits and starts, 
and in the most irregular way possible. The wretched 
pole had to keep striking the water in every way 
possible, splashing and dabbling in an agitated, in- 
coherent manner, and so quickly that it looked like 
the fingers of a compass out of order. 

Its poor Captain, who was still in the trough, was 
tossed about all the time. He never ceased to brandish 
his giddy pole, except when he was emptying the 
water out of his death-trap with a saucepan. 

The two men were making headway, nevertheless, 
with the tub turning round and round, and the 
trough leaping and bounding, both of them dancing 
wild waltzes. The tub, thanks to a few vigorous 
strokes, got ahead. The trough followed with great 
difficulty, but, presently, its pilot managed to set it 
going and, with a few energetic strokes with his pole- 
oar, he too gained ground, came up with his rival, who 



3i6 Brave Belgians 

appeared to be in distress, and then passed by him 
with ease. 

They were a good distance from us now and we held 
our breath as we watched them. One or the other 
kept disappearing every minute, apparently sinking 
straight to the bottom. Finally the trough, which was 
certainly the stronger of the two, approached the 
coast! A few more strokes of the oar and it had 
landed at the edge of the green islet. As to the tub, 
it leapt, rocked, and spun round in a way that would 
have made a demon shudder. Finally, it ran aground 
on a mud bank. The man landed in the water, 
wallowed in the mud, freed himself, set his barque 
afloat again, but it was quite a drama to re-embark in 
it, in the midst of the "sea." He managed this, 
though, and he finally crossed without any further 
accident. We breathed freely once more. 

The two patrols examined the land, consulted for a 
moment, and then advanced towards the mysterious 
farm. There was no sign of life, but we trembled for 
them, as we knew the ways of the Bodies. They 
were now within a hundred yards of the quiet-looking 
building, when, suddenly, they were saluted by bullets 
from invisible holes. The farm was occupied then. 
The object of their expedition was attained and we 
expected that our men would now come crawling 
back. Not at all ! They were crawling, but it was in 
the direction of the German trench, which ran to 
the right of the farm along the strip of land. They 
did not care to have taken such a long trip for nothing 
and they thought they might as well see whether the 
trench was occupied too. They approached it 
slowly and cautiously, looking up occasionally to see 
whether anything moved. They reached the parapet, 



A Patrol 317 

stopped a second, and then, striding over it, dis- 
appeared. At my side I heard a man whisper : ' ' They 
must be mad!" 

1 ' Ping ! Pang !" we heard in the trench. This time 
the daring fellows must certainly have been taken 
prisoners. Not so, though. We saw them suddenly 
emerge, like two jack-in-the-boxes, jump down the 
bank, and crawl on all fours, with the speed of two 
lizards running through the grass. Only their guns 
were then visible, swaying with a quick movement 
like two pendulums. The men themselves were so 
flat down in the mud that they soon looked like two 
lumps of mud being moved by an invisible hand. 
From time to time, after a sharp volley, one of them 
would remain still and apparently lifeless. Had he 
been hit, we wondered? No, he was only pretending 
to be dead and, a minute later, he started again, 
going along more quickly still. After a good quarter 
of an hour of this alarming chase, they reached 
the water. They waited five minutes and then, with 
a jump, each one seized his "boat," got into it, and 
once more set off waltzing, twisting, and turning, 
under a shower of bullets. Twenty times over they 
escaped death and finally, wet through, perspiring, 
covered with slime and moss, as sturdy as two Nep- 
tunes, they landed, and going straight up to their Lieu- 
tenant, laughing as they went, they gave in the result 
of their expedition. 

"The farm is occupied and the trench too," was 
all they said. 

"I can see that for myself, on looking at you two, 
by Jingo!" 

The officer, torn between anger and admiration, 
did not know whether he ought to blame them or 



3i 8 Brave Belgians 

praise them. He did a little of each and our dare- 
devils, a trifle ashamed of being ''pitched into," but 
very well satisfied with their exploit, went off to wash 
their clothes and dry themselves in the sun, which 
was now smiling on them. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 
The Death March 

By Doctor Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers 

There is very little improvement in the situation. 
The Germans are holding the trenches from Het-Sas 
as far as Steenstraete. Their attacks are getting more 
frequent. To-night, the Zouaves are to attack Li- 
zerne. 

At the present moment, all our batteries are raging. 
It is six o'clock in the evening. The 75 's are yelling 
at short intervals. Our seven-fives, with the noise of 
anvils, send out their volleys into the vibrating air, 
with a piercing, shrill whistle. 

We saw Pypegale, with its ruined houses. English 
couriers, concealed here and there, watched us pass 
by. To the left, the green plain stretched out before 
us as far as the tall trees of Kemmelbeeck. They 
were standing in groups, with their branches still 
bare. Farther away were hedges and little gardens, 
and in the corner, where the valley is cut into two by 
the road, in the midst of the green coppices, were 
pear-trees covered with blossom. We could see the 
red roofs of the little village of Zuydschoote, with 
its white church all charred. 

The big German shells were falling all the time on 
319: 



320 Brave Belgians 

these wooded places. Great black convolutions rose 
in the air in balls, or, if the shell burst in the houses, 
the pink dust of the pulverised tiles could then be 
seen. We could hear the roofs cracking, the walls 
giving way, and the beams falling down. 

Above the road occupied by the column, the white 
clouds of the little shrapnels were rising. They stood 
out clearly against the clear blue sky. The wind 
stretched them gently out, changed their shapes, and 
wafted them towards us. Farther still, the horizon 
was gradually veiled in a mist composed of smoke, 
rubbish, and dust. 

On our left was the farm, to which this road led. 
We passed through the devastated barn. Balls began 
to whistle and crash against the walls. The windows 
had no panes and the rooms were full of rubbish and 
rotten straw. A Grenadier dragged himself along 
towards us, his face drawn and his forehead covered 
with cold perspiration. His trousers were sticking to 
one of his legs with blood, and, on cutting them away, 
a big wound was to be seen with a dark background, 
formed by the muscles, and a long, red stream which 
was trickling down. Next arrived a Zouave, short 
and broad-backed. He came along merrijy, support- 
ing his arm which he showed us. 

"I think they've broken it this time, the pigs!" 
he said, with a Marseilles accent. "They had me, 
anyhow." He spoke with great eloquence, gesticu- 
lating energetically. When his arm was dressed, he 
turned suddenly pale and was silent, as he leaned for 
support against the wall. 

We looked out to see where we should cross the 
fiery barrier. Every man gave his opinion on the 
matter. The Zouaves over yonder were going along, 



The Death March 321 

in single file, near the hedges, in the direction of 
Zuydschoote. We could see their yellow jackets and 
the blue veiling covering their chechias. Holding 
their guns in their hands, they were advancing 
cautiously, hiding like Indians on the war-path. 

As we approached Kemmelbeeck, the bullets 
whistled, snapped, and whined more than ever. We 
saw the footbridges, the sentinel's niche, all covered 
with grass, and the big, bare trees, with their out- 
stretched arms. All along the coppice, in the ditches, 
the Grenadiers, with dark coats and red badges on 
their collars, could be seen lying down among the 
Zouaves in their light costumes. To our right, the 
farm in ruins, with nothing but fragments of walls, 
level with the ground, was hiding its bricks in the 
grasses. The zone here was fired on to such a degree 
that it was wiser to hasten along. We had to cross 
the road in order to reach the little guard-house. 
This was sheltering a whole group of soldiers, who 
were in the garden taking refuge near the walls and 
among the green plants and tufts of jonquils. Their 
uniforms stood out in vivid colours, all the more vivid 
as the sun was sinking in the horizon. 

The little house was intact and this was a miracle. 
The men were chattering like magpies. They were 
relating all kinds of exploits amidst the din of the 
battle. Those near the walls were crouching down 
close to each other. The others were lying flat down. 
The wounded had taken refuge inside the house. 

Two small rooms were full, and the wounded were 
lying down on straw. One of these, a Grenadier, was 
near the wall. He was dying from a bullet in his 
head. A Zouave, crouching in a corner, was pressing 
his arm against his breast. He did not speak and was 



322 Brave Belgians 

gazing with a fixed stare in front of him. Others were 
tossing about and moaning. The floor was strewn 
with bandages covered with blood, with scraps of 
dirty uniforms, with knapsacks, guns, and bayonets. 
A hand that was stretched out towards me had the 
fingers almost torn off. A young Corporal, very plain- 
looking, with dark hair, his moustache cut in brush 
fashion, and with twinkling eyes, was joking at his 
own expense, as he pointed to his wound. "What 
am I going to do," he asked, "for I cannot sit down 
again?" In the adjoining room, there were more 
wounded men, all crowded together. The army 
chaplain, in one corner, was giving the absolution. 
Two officers were taking their supper at a table, 
whilst reading their orders. Coming out from under 
this table, could be seen the iron-tipped boots of a 
dying man. 

"Doctor, Doctor, am I going to be left here?" 

Moans could be heard on all sides and everyone 
was talking at the same time. It was a mixture of 
languages, in which slang and Flemish predominated. 

"My bandage is torn, Doctor; I am losing all my 
blood!" 

There was a poor fellow whose leg had been nearly 
blown off; another one, bent double, was leaning his 
head against the wall. Another man had his head 
bandaged and bleeding. 

"I was advancing," he said, "the first of the 
section, when all at once I felt a shock." 

He gesticulated with his dry hand, trying to explain 
what had happened. There were many others in a 
similar plight. It was getting dark and the red wounds 
looked black in the darkness, and the expression in 
the men's eyes seemed more profound. A candle was 



The Death March 323 

lighted and the shadows on the wall now grew longer 
and looked enormous. A wounded man, in a corner 
of the room, had just ceased suffering. His eyes were 
wide open staring fixedly at the room. 

From the windows, the green light of the shrapnels 
and the red flames of the shells lit up the darkness 
with sudden flashes. Tiles kept falling and lumps of 
earth thudding against the roof. A strange heaviness 
weighed on everyone, numbing the brain and drying 
the eyes. Was it fatigue or torpor ? No, it was some- 
thing indescribable. 

Outside, the human bunch was still there. To the 
right could be heard the regular tac-tac of a machine- 
gun. 

"Ah the animals!" cried a Zouave, shaking his fist. 
"We shall have them, though, just now, with the 
bayonet!" 

Shells went whizzing over the house, exploding in 
the coppices with a whooping noise. Then came the 
heavier, jerky whizz of the big "Fifteens," Ram . . . 
ram . . . ram! They exploded and kept coming in 
threes, at regular intervals. From one minute to 
another the great glow might appear, the final 
destruction which would send all our human islet to 
its death. 

Our first line trenches were over yonder. There 
was the Lizerne Mill. The village was to the right. 
The ground looked black, the plain was lighted by the 
moon, so that one could see a heap of bricks which 
reminded one of the Mill. In October, we had seen 
it in all its glory, with its sails in the form of a cross. 
Through the cloud of dust which rose from the 
battle-field, lighted up by the shrapnels which kept 
rending the darkness, and in the midst of the wan 



324 Brave Belgians 

light, the scene before us looked like a dream picture. 
We could see the spot we wanted to reach. With our 
eyes fixed on it, we went along as though hypnotised. 
Over there was the hill-top that had been laid waste, 
the accursed spot where craters had been made in 
every direction. 

Bullets were whizzing through the air and clods 
of earth kept falling with heavy thuds. Fragments 
of shells kept burying themselves with a whirring 
sound. Onward, onward, we must get there! As we 
advanced, the outline of the spot we were aiming at 
grew bigger and bigger. We kept stumbling, falling 
down and getting up again. Now we saw the house 
all in ruins, the hill on which the mill had stood before 
it fell in. A shelter had now been dug in the hill. 
I pushed the door open, a whiff of hot air nearly 
choked me, the light dazzled me and, in the heavy 
atmosphere, I could scarcely recognise any faces. 
There were about twenty men there, some wounded, 
who were waiting, and officers who were there at their 
posts. We had to go still farther on than this. We 
could stay only long enough to exchange a few words, 
and then, shaking hands, we said "Adieu! Good 
luck!" How many of us would never return! 

It was now the last stage of our journey. There 
was a communication trench here. We glided along, 
sheltering near the house, dark shadows in the night. 
The trench had been blocked and was almost de- 
stroyed. We had to climb on heaps of sand, stride 
over, jump and then let ourselves fall again into the 
holes. It was a labyrinth of fragments of walls, and 
of moving earth, above which tall, branchless trees 
stood up like black skeletons. Shells kept coming 
regularly, every quarter of a minute. Between every 



The Death March 325 

explosion we ran, hurrying forward. Our hearts 
were beating fast. The bullets kept snapping. We 
did not think of death. Our one idea was to arrive, 
to advance. It was a deadly race. And then the 
odour that rose to our nostrils, at the same time as 
the odour of the powder, became stronger and stronger. 

At last we came to Yperlee, to the footbridge. 
Only a rush now and we shall be on sheltered ground. 

The tree that used to be there is split up. Its dark 
branches were all intertwined as they fell, and we 
could see the white of its sap-wood, with its enormous 
prickles. On the ground were four Zouaves. One 
of them was crouching down, with his gun between his 
legs and his head on his chest. The others were lying 
down, as though they were asleep. And that terrible 
odour became persistent. Agreeable at first, some- 
thing like jasmine, it finally became sickening. It 
had been pursuing us for a long time, and, at times, it 
was most violent. The band seemed to be tightening 
round our temples. Our eyes were burning and tears 
were running down our cheeks. There were little 
drops of moisture in the air which settled on us. 

Here was the trench, and the moon made the 
shadows seem enormous. The sudden gleam from the 
shrapnels rent the darkness overhead. The shells 
yelled as they passed heavily along. It was as though 
they found it difficult to advance. Suddenly some 
"seventy-fives" rushed along. They ceased and then 
began again wildly. The horizon was brilliant with 
sudden flashes. In the distance we could hear the 
stifled "Boom!" of the big cannons, the bell-like 
sound of the 380 which went on and on. The cannon- 
ading became slower and we thought it was stopping, 
but, after a moment's silence, one cannon began 



326 Brave Belgians 

again, then another, and then all of them together. 
Our Grenadiers were there, lying on the parapets, 
crouching in the trenches, big, dark shadows on their 
still greyer sacks. They fired. Bullets smashed into 
the sacks, into the earth and the trees. Shadows could 
be seen gliding about, men bending double, with their 
guns in their hands. On the right, a great, red light 
was to be seen, gradually covering all the sky. Ypres 
was burning. The ruins of Ypres were in flames. 
The bullets sang and whined. Others plunged into the 
bluish darkness with a reverberating noise. They 
went a long way and then suddenly ended in the 
ground. They came from the front, from the back, 
from everywhere. A fuse came down from the sky, a 
green star lighting up the trench with an unnatural 
light, like a diabolical smile. The whizzing began 
again. Shrapnels burst with their greenish light, 
again and again, and all the time. It was a wonderful 
and terrible hour. Flanders was bleeding from all her 
veins. But no matter, the Germans did not pass ! 



CHAPTER XXXIV 
Shelter D. A. 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers 

In the low room of the farmhouse, with its dingy- 
ceiling supported by oak beams, everyone was listen- 
ing in silence. The Germans had lost Lizerne, but 
they were still holding out on this side of the water: 
Het-sas and Steenstraete. This evening, the Bat- 
talion was to occupy a transversal position, behind the 
telegraph pole opposite the bridge-head. The officers, 
in their dark uniforms, were standing up. In the dim 
light, their faces looked paler than usual. Their 
brass buttons and their stars shone. Through the 
curtains of the windows we could see the green 
landscape. Only those who had passed through the 
Lizerne hell could imagine the impression caused by 
the idea of returning to it. 

All day long, the cannon had been roaring, making 
the window-panes rattle. A few shells had come as 
far as our farm and killed a Grenadier. I had seen 
him near the hedge. He was stretched on the ground, 
his skull broken in, his white face framed by the blood 
from his forehead. Not far from him the dry, ploughed 
ground had been lacerated. A man, spade in hand, 
was looking for the head of the shell. 

327 



3 2 8 Brave Belgians 

Our departure took place in silence. In the dim 
light, our men's red badges stood out vividly. They 
went along in Indian file by a path in the wood. 
Their heavy tread could be heard as they crossed the 
footbridge. They marched on. The black farms, in 
the darkness, looked fantastic. There were hedges, 
rows of willow-trees, and desolate houses. The frame- 
work of only a few of these was still standing. Tiles 
cracked under our feet. Then there were paths on 
which our dark shadows fell side by side with the 
poplar trees. From time to time, we heard the clatter 
of a metal cup or a stealthy tread on the grass, like 
that of an animal going to the river at night. The 
moon shone very faintly and the stars looked like 
silver nails. 

A few bullets sang round our ears. One of our 
fuses rushed into the darkness with a long, whistling 
sound. The white star stood out shining over the 
landscape and making it look elysian. 

We now came to the trench, with its heaps of sacks 
and up-turned earth. The traces of the struggle 
were still visible. Whole trees had been felled down 
on the parapet and were now lying, split open, their 
beams in the air. We penetrated into a new domain, 
gliding along in the deep passages. From time to time 
a fuse came down with a greenish light and a graceful, 
curving movement. It lighted up the tops of the 
trees and then searched the coppices. The shadows 
moved about again, stretched themselves out and 
then again all was darkness, the darkness to which our 
eyes had once more to get accustomed. We saw 
some soldiers wearing blue coats among our men. 
They were the brave fellows of the 135th. We could 
scarcely distinguish them from the others. They 



Shelter D. A. 329 

hollowed out niches for themselves in the bank and 
crouched right down in these shelters, with their 
heads almost buried in the bank. They were there 
pele-mele, the dead and the living. Those who were 
sitting had their guns between their legs and were 
dozing. We knocked against one of them in passing. 

"What's the matter?" he exclaimed. "Are we 
going to the assault?" And he was up and ready at 
once. 

The tall outlines of the trees now stood out against 
the sky. We had reached the entrance of the com- 
munication trench. Just as we were crossing the 
little bridge, something luminous burst over us and 
we suddenly heard the fizzling of a storm of bullets. 
We had only just time to lie down flat and wait till 
the hurricane was over. The darkness then returned. 
One by one, we entered the labyrinth of mud and of 
crumbling parapets. A prop had been made out of the 
ruins of a farmhouse, which had been razed to the 
ground. These ruins did not look like any other ruins. 
Among the dark coppices, the scattered stones looked 
like white patches. 

Our shelter was composed of a number of small 
wooden boxes, half covered with earth. In the 
bluish light of night, our outlines looked enormous. 
The moon lighted up, with a vague gleam, this 
devastated space, where the shattered, broken- 
branched trees added their cataleptic attitudes to the 
general desolation. Around the shelters, many of 
which were no more than tangled rubbish, about 
fifteen dead bodies were lying crushed on the ground. 
In the background was the Lizerne Mill. A jagged 
outline could be seen standing out against the sky. 

Our men were wandering about trying to find a 



330 Brave Belgians 

place. At the bottom of a hole, the yellowish light of 
a candle could be seen, but it was soon extinguished. 
The ambulance men were burying the nearest of the 
dead. The Chaplain, who looked like a dark shadow 
in the moonlight, offered up a prayer. It was in this 
spot that we were to live for the next three days. 

Our men huddled together on planks of wood with a 
slight layer of straw. Each one rolled himself up in 
his blanket and wedged himself into his corner. 
Everyone was silent. Through the open door could 
be seen the pale blue of the sky with two stars shining 
in it. In the distance, the big cannons were booming 
all the time. We tried to go on sleeping as long as 
possible, stiff though we were. The sun had already 
risen. The square of the sky which could be seen 
through the open door had gradually become a 
square of light. Death had not come to us during 
the night. 

The sun was warm and we lay down on the bare 
ground behind the shelter, like so many lizards. 
The kindly golden light chased away all bitterness and 
fatigue. Under our feet, the bodies which had only 
just been buried gave a sensation of elasticity to the 
ground. The full daylight took away the phantas- 
magorial appearance of everything, and our shelters 
appeared in their true aspect, wretched boxes, made 
of pinewood half covered with tufts of grass. 

The ground all around us was hollowed out in 
enormous craters, several of which were quite close to 
us. A field all yellow with turnips in flower crowned 
the summit, the rest was nothing but brown earth. 

A few men at work passed along by the hedge. 
One by one they ran along, bending nearly double. 
They passed near to us, making straight for the top of 



Shelter D. A. 33* 

the hill. Little clouds of dust, made by bullets, kept 
rising at their feet. Their coats could be seen mingling 
with the yellowish-green of the turnip field. They 
then disappeared among the flowers. 

Towards two o'clock the cannonading commenced. 
The seventy-fives thundered without ceasing. Our 
seven-fives accompanied them. Very soon the Ger- 
mans began to do their part, and their tens exploded 
with a noise that rent the air. Next came the wild- 
beast yelling of the shrapnels rushing on to the 
batteries, the dull noise of the heavy block-trains, the 
whizzing of our own shells, which passed quite near to 
us and then went on rapidly to lacerate our enemies 
in their dens. Then came the bell-like sound of the 
English howitzers, the fantastical dance of the seventy- 
five shells, striking their wild chords on the trenches, 
the yelling whistle of the heavy shells which soon 
began to fall on the plateau. They exploded near to 
us, with a heavy crashing din. The rubbish whirled 
round in the air with harmonious songs. The bursting 
of certain German shrapnels was accompanied by a 
hubbub like the cries of wounded men. And then 
once more came the big shells. The sky was darkened 
by the clouds of black dust which rose up in the air 
like waterspouts. 

The planks of wood were riddled with fragments. 
The cannonading then diminished and finally ceased. 
What was going to happen next? We listened 
anxiously and then, suddenly, a machine-gun was to 
be heard. This meant the assault, and our hearts 
were full of anguish. We looked out into the distance, 
straight in front of us, sure, however, that we should 
see nothing. Then, all at once, by the communication 
trench, a whole mass of wounded men arrived. They 



33 2 Brave Belgians 

were pale and panting and many of them drenched 
to the bones. 

"Oh the wretches, the wretches, they had us, 
Doctor! It was horrible. We had scarcely left the 
trench, when they mowed us down. Some of our men 
plunged into the water to save themselves, into that 
water over yonder, the stream, I don't know what you 
call it, and they have been drowned in that rot. 
Others who were wounded and were trying to get 
back into our lines were finished off by them, finished 
off, Doctor, by their machine-guns, men who were 
dragging themselves along on the ground." 

The machine-gun was silent now. More and more 
wounded arrived, in little groups, pursued by the 
shooting. One of them had his face red with blood. 
There was blood and mud everywhere, and on all 
sides moans of pain. One poor fellow was sitting in a 
hole, with bullets in both feet and his arm shattered. 
He was holding his arm as one holds a baby, rocking 
it and uttering incomprehensible things, as he shook 
his head. There were about forty lying either at the 
back of the shelters or inside, pele-mele, amongst our 
men. They gradually became more calm and were 
quiet. Those who could go on farther started off one 
by one. The one who had been crying was now 
shivering in a corner. The darkness came on again 
gradually. The assault of the 135th had failed. 

In the night, the dance began once more, and this 
time, through the chinks, we could see the red light 
of the explosions. Suddenly a shell made a breach 
over our heads. 

"Is anyone hit?" we asked. 

"No one, " came the reply. 

Another one came presently, and then others. We 



Shelter D. A. 333 

heard them fall and the ground shook. We tried to 
go to sleep, but, with our hearts beating fast and our 
limbs cramped, sleep would not come. More shells 
arrived. We thought they were exploding farther 
away, but no, that one was nearer. Then another 
farther away and, after this, silence again. We were 
tired of hoping against hope and we all pulled our 
blankets up and covered our faces. 

The dawn was slow in coming. There were no 
more illusions possible for us. As long as the Germans 
were on this side of the water, life would be unbearable 
for us. And yet it was a beautiful day and a bird was 
singing on the broken branch of a tree. It was so 
good to be alive ! 

Thanks to the shells round here, the graves were 
ready made. We put the Grenadiers and French who 
were in the neighborhood into them. Our domain 
was very limited, and was skirted on every side by 
death. Presently breakfast was served, bread and 
jam, cold coffee in aluminium goblets. These were 
the usual rations, for we had to live in spite of every- 
thing. We yawned as we looked out and saw the thin 
brown lines of the German trenches in front of us. 

In the afternoon, the aeroplanes were flying about 
over our heads in the blue sky, and presently the 
azure road was riddled with white spots. We were all 
watching them, but we soon had to go in and take 
shelter, as the splinters fell about with a whirring 
sound. One of our machines then appeared in pursuit 
of the others and this was intensely exciting for us. 
It rushed along like a bird of prey, but unfortunately 
its victim had time to escape . . . and so the time 
passed. 

Once more the dance began, and the noise, this time, 



334 Brave Belgians 

was formidable and uninterrupted. Again the big 
shells tore up the ground near us, flinging into the air 
enormous clouds which hid the light from us. The 
rubbish fell down like rain, the ground trembled, and 
our huts shook. The next one came along with a 
terrible, hissing sound, and then another and another. 
We wondered whether the cannon would never cease 
again. For days now, we had heard it like this. At 
last there was silence once more. We could scarcely 
believe it at first. The backs of our necks ached and 
our ears were on the alert. What was the meaning of 
this wonderful silence? We could not hear the 
machine-gun. Well, then . . . our assault must have 
succeeded. . . . We could not believe this. It was 
too good to be true. In spite of everything, our 
breasts were swelling with joy and the men burst out 
singing the Marseillaise. 

Oh, if we could only know what had happened! 
Presently a soldier came our way. 

"What's the news? " cried out our men. He looked 
at us in a dazed way, holding his metal cup in his 
hand. 

"News of the assault?" he said. "It's been put 
off." 

It was night and, on the Steenstraete side, there 
was a house in flames, throwing huge red lights on the 
sky. The fuses, with their ideal colouring, rose 
silently again in the air with their gentle curves. 
Our long serpents, with their golden spangles, rushed 
out into the darkness, letting a star of pale light fall 
in the air. 

By gliding along, from shell hole to shell hole, it 
was possible to get as far as the mill. In the communi- 



Shelter D. A. 335 

cation trench, a dark, crushed, charred body had 
sunk down. Farther on, there were paving stones 
that had been torn up and rubbish, from all sides, 
that had accumulated. The hillock was torn open 
and the opening led out to the light night. The 
shadows here were motionless and the very things 
looked dead. It was absolute solitude, a terrible 
picture of war, the strange domain of fear. 

Of the five shelters, only one was intact. Two of 
them were nothing but heaps of planks. The ear 
was now accustomed to all the noises ; it had learnt to 
know when danger was near and every sound had its 
own special significance in our minds. Every after- 
noon the action began again, it was always the same 
thing. Weariness made our heads and limbs seem 
heavy. Life was passing by in this way now. From 
time to time, delegates went to the different com- 
panies, bending down almost double, tricking danger. 

In the shelters, a fool was telling extraordinary tales, 
tales of riotous life and of quarrels. Everyone laughed. 
His face was all awry, but he would not upon any 
account laugh himself. There was a red-haired young 
man there, too, with long hair. He was pale and 
sickly. He was listening anxiously to all the sounds 
outside. Why in the world did he think so much of his 
life. He began arguing when it was his turn to start 
and then rushed out into the danger, as though his 
fate were a thing of great importance. We are all of 
us like that. 

Some of the men were asleep, others were eating, 
and a fierce-looking Grenadier was polishing the 
head of a shell. 

As a matter of fact, we could really have lived there 



33 6 Brave Belgians 

a long time, it was only a question of habit and custom. 

To our right, the big green shells kept bursting 
fairly regularly on a group of houses. Farther on, 
shell-mines kept falling. No one paid any attention 
to these now. They came at their own sweet will on 
our side. Suddenly, a long, dark mass was to be seen 
rushing along and turning round and round above a 
roof. Was it a man that had been flung into the air? 
No, it was a shell that had not exploded and which 
had bounded again on to the footpath. The darkness 
came over us for the third time. It slowly changed 
the luminous tints of the sky into pastel-like grey 
harmonies, which grew slowly fainter and ended in 
darkness. 

Suddenly, red fuses were flung into the air. An 
attack had begun. In a few seconds, all the cannons 
"were thundering together. The German shrapnels 
exploded four at a time in a luminous mass of absinthe 
green, in the centre of which were red balls. They rent 
the air with a huge noise. The seventy-fives rushed 
out yelling. In the distance, their sudden flames were 
like gigantic will-o'-the-wisps. A machine-gun could 
now be heard, and then a second one, and a third. 
Some soldiers of the 418th passed along in close file, 
dressed in pale blue which mingled with the darkness. 
Their bayonets glittered in the green light of the fuses, 
and then again, with mad yells, the "big" shells 
appeared on the plateau, flinging into the air opaque 
clouds which gathered round us. Gun firing could be 
heard crackling all along the line. An immense 
brazier had been lighted at Lizerne. It grew bigger 
and bigger. And among the piles of dark night clouds, 
above Steenstraete in flames, a blood-red moon arose. 



CHAPTER XXXV 
Steenstraete 

(May 25, 191 5) 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers 

At Steenstraete, the upheaval, the absolute de- 
struction of everything is formidable. The very places 
where the houses stood are only recognisable by the 
heaps of broken bricks of their foundations. There 
was not much left when we arrived in the Sector, but, 
at present, there is not even one stone upon another. 
Everywhere there are craters hollowed out, and these 
are so close together that they run into each other. 
In one of these, a German corpse could be seen, 
standing up, buried up to his waist and headless. 
Pieces of uniforms were visible in the beaten soil, and, 
as the ground gave way, one saw a face under one's 
feet, the shape of which was vaguely outlined and the 
mouth, with its white teeth, was open like a rat hole. 

We saw what had been the brewery with its huge 
cellars. It had fallen completely in. We could only 
recognise the road by its torn-up pavement and its 
twisted rails. Of all Steenstraete, there is nothing 
left, it has been razed to the ground. The bridge is 
nothing but a wretched heap of old iron. 

The Steenstraete Bridge! Names and sites, like 
22 337 



338 Brave Belgians 

people, acquire their titles of nobility. At present, 
the Algerian sharp-shooters are guarding the bridge. 
In order to go forward, we had to disturb the sentinels 
who were lost in thought near their battlements. 
We had to climb over the sleeping soldiers, too. 
Some of them had hollowed out alcoves in the earth 
and they were almost buried in them. Others had 
stretched their tents out on the stakes and they were 
sleeping in the square of shade which this afforded. 
They rather blocked the way for the patrol's rounds. 
Their greenish yellow uniform was almost the colour 
of the ground. Here and there, the red of a Chechia 
cap gave relief to the colouring. Bayonets could be 
seen everywhere, glittering in the sunshine. They had 
a crapouillot, a bomb-thrower and a German machine- 
gun, all this among the battery, together with sacks 
of earth, dry mud, and the ruins of walls which formed 
the trenches. The crapouillot seemed to be crouch- 
ing down, whilst the machine-gun and the bomb- 
thrower stretched their necks forward in the direction 
of the enemy. Here and there, the green and yellow 
bags, which the Germans had left behind them, 
reminded us of the recent occupation. It was a 
tranquil moment, for the cannon was silent. 

Under the ardent sun, with the dry mud colour 
which pervaded everything, the outlines of the Alge- 
rian sharp-shooters, their bronzed complexions and 
their eagle-like profiles reminded one of an Oriental 
street. 

One can have no idea of modern warfare without 
having seen the ground all torn up by shells and 
hollowed out in all directions by trenches, with the 
old communication passages of the Germans cutting 
ours perpendicularly. Houses, the road, gardens, 



Steenstraete 339 

fields are all mixed up in one mass of ruin and broken 
earth. It is no use expecting to find here that comfort 
which embellishes calmer war zones; it is useless to 
look for tombs all regularly arranged and covered with 
grass, each one with a cross, on which the dead man's 
name is written in white letters. 

Here and there, in this region, a rusty bayonet 
emerges, and on it is a tattered military cap. Two 
sticks joined together to form a cross may also be 
seen now and then, but that is all. And yet, under 
this ground, there are heaps and heaps of dead bodies 
buried hap-hazard. The sharp-shooters have taken 
some of them for consolidating their parapet. Cellars 
fell in burying their occupants. On every side there 
are whiffs of strong odours. The ground moves 
under our feet and whenever one treads in muddy 
puddles, this odour is still stronger. The wind of 
Death has passed. Everything is destroyed here, and 
even the grass does not grow again in such spots. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 
Lizerne 

(June, 1915) 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers 

We were walking along the winding attack trench, 
skirting the Yperlee. It is a trench that gradually 
gets more and more shallow. Just where it ends, the 
dead bodies of two French soldiers were lying, their 
faces black and unrecognisable. Water was running 
over the injured thigh of one of them and his flesh 
was as red as his trousers. The brook among the 
wild grasses was full of rubbish of all sorts; and the 
tall trees sheltering it were either headless, or they 
had been mown down, and were lying shattered on the 
ground. Some of the branches had resprouted and 
the muddy brooklet, in which mouldy bread and tins 
of provisions were floating, continued to flow slowly 
on. Polluted, but glorious, it went on over crumbling 
tree trunks and improvised bridges, past earth shelters 
and mud banks towards archways that, in the 
distance, appear to be covered with flowers. It was 
flowing on towards that old gay, laughing valley, 
little known formerly, but which now bears the 
charming and terrible name of the "covered road of 
the Yperlee. " 

340 



Lizerne 341 

We then went along the other trench, in which are 
the tombs of many of our men. A foot could be seen 
emerging from the parapet, and everywhere was that 
odour that one can never forget, the odour that reveals 
the presence of dead bodies more distinctly than the 
sight of them. 

We then went along the parallel one. It curves 
inwards near Lizerne and we crossed the road under 
the district-railway. 

By dint of creeping, climbing, and running, we 
managed to reach the German trench which forms an 
arched circle on the other side of the village. It had 
been entirely overturned by the shells. We could see 
grey coats that had been left behind, stiffened legs 
emerging from the embankment, and cartridges. 
The houses, behind which the trench had been con- 
structed, had fallen down, whole pieces of the walls 
together, but there was more character about them 
than those of Steenstraete, as they showed that they 
had been houses. The whole of the back of one house 
had fallen all in a piece. Under the ruins could be seen 
three dead bodies of Joyeux, z their skulls crushed and 
covered with long, dull brown hair. I crossed the 
road and entered a little house, the general sitting- 
room of which was still intact. A Boche was lying 
there with his limbs stretched out, his face black, his 
nose flattened, and his eyes sunken. Flies had left 
their traces on his chin and cheeks. He had evidently 
been searched, as the buttons of his coat had been 
cut off, but he still had his boots on. 

The whole hamlet was nothing but a heap of ruins. 
Guns, bayonets, beds of sacking, and belts were flung 
about everywhere. The dead could scarcely be dis- 
1 Soldiers belonging to the African Battalion. 



34 2 Brave Belgians 

tinguished from the ground which partially covered 
them. Shells had hollowed out holes everywhere and 
on returning from the other side of the road, I walked 
over half-buried corpses. 

From where we were, we looked over the plain in 
the distance, the beautiful plain with its gentle undu- 
lations and its groups of trees here and there. It was 
quite green and looked so flourishing and lovely. 
We could see the brown line of our trenches and those 
of the Germans. Nearer to us, all the ground was 
furrowed with communication trenches, with elements 
of defence, with sacks of earth for fortification. It 
seemed as though enormous ants had devastated the 
beautiful garden of Flanders. 

The sky was wonderfully blue. We could see it 
between the broken-up roofs, through the holes in the 
walls, between the branches of the rent trees, between 
the fragments of exploded barrels, which were spread 
out fan-shaped like palm leaves. The shrubs were 
already sprouting again over the ruins. Birds were 
singing in the midst of the silence, and the fields of 
turnips, which had gone to seed and which were 
flowering, formed big yellow patches among the corn. 

And these were the places which had witnessed 
such hard fighting, the places over which avalanches 
of fire had swept. They were now given over to 
silence, and mankind there was nothing more than 
flattened carrion, almost in a state of deliquescence, 
only to be recognised by his colourless hair and by the 
blue or grey coat which covered him. And Nature, 
as we saw, was ready to cover everything up, Nature 
which never dies. In an instant, the products of so 
many centuries of civilisation had been annihilated 
there. But the space devastated, in spite of its extent, 



Lizerne 343 

is remarkably limited, and only the works of man and 
man himself had suffered. The enemy was there and 
had seen us, for we were absolutely in the open. We 
were comparatively safe though for, near though we 
were, we were too small. Shells of 15 calibre began 
to be fired again at Lizerne. They fell with a great 
noise, sending columns of rubbish and clouds of black 
smoke into the air. We set off again, taking with us a 
German bayonet, a Chechia, a shell fuse, and some 
yellow and purple pansies of rich colouring, which had 
flowered in the deserted gardens. We went back by 
the intricate trench passages. In a solitary shelter, 
by the side of one of these, a man belonging to the 
418th was lying. We recognised him, thanks to his 
brown, ribbed velveteen trousers and his pale blue 
coat, with its two squares of vivid yellow on the 
collar. He was lying on his back and some open 
letters were on his chest. Some of his friends had 
fastened some papers on the entrance to the hole, 
giving his name. Standing there, bareheaded, in the 
glaring sunshine, we remained for a moment looking 
at this man, who, here alone, far away from his own 
people, had seen his moment of happiness and glory 
escape him for ever. 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

Death of Sergeant Count Charles 
d'Ansemhourg 

By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of 
Grenadiers 

Between the walls of sacks, by the breach hollowed 
out in the dyke, we could see the Yser, its banks of 
mud, and its grey, tranquil stream. The green bank 
on the other side was reflected in it, surmounted by 
spikes lifting their sharp points towards the sky. 

The raft glided along noiselessly. The man who 
was drawing the rope was crouching down at the 
water's edge and his khaki coat made him look like 
a big rat curled up. In the breach opposite, one or 
two anxious faces could be seen. The raft bunted 
against the edge. We were almost in the enemy's 
territory. 

Along the little dyke was a shallow trench hollowed 
out in the thick grasses. One had to bend almost 
double in order to be protected by the top of the 
trench. The Yser, at our feet, made a bend and 
curved inwards towards Dixmude. The pink and 
white ruins of this town could be seen in the back- 
ground. The trench then continued higher up and very 
soon we were in the little post. 

344 



Death of Charles D'Ansembourg 345 

It was there that Sergeant d'Ansembourg was 
lying. A soldier was endeavouring to staunch the 
blood which, flowing in long drops over the face and 
from the back of the wounded man's head, formed a 
little pool. The ball had struck him just above the 
right eye, near the temple. It had made a hole in the 
cap lying near the grenade. The wound was a mortal 
one ; there was nothing to be done. All that remained 
of life was gently ebbing away. 

As yet, the paralysis was not complete. Some 
faculties still remained. When the wound was 
dressed, the poor man remained for a few seconds, 
holding his head with his hands, leaning on his elbow, 
as though wrapt in thought. He did not recover 
consciousness, though, for a single minute, nor did he 
utter a word. 

He had on his waterproof coat, of a greenish colour, 
and his brown uniform with a leather belt. The 
refined outline of his sympathetic face could be seen. 
In the little excavation, with its steep approach, 
everything was the colour of the ground. The blood 
stains alone were a cruel contrast to the rest of the 
colouring. 

Presently a head appeared at the edge of our burrow. 
It was a soldier bringing with him a stretcher. He 
gave a leap and then came in on all fours. Gently 
we laid the wounded man on the stretcher. Bullets 
grazed the top of the earthen parapet, flinging 
rubbish and dust over us. The Germans were there, 
quite near, only fifty yards away probably. 

The wounded man lay there unconscious, his legs 
already paralysed, his arm clenched on his breast. 
We pushed the stretcher a little further forward, 
where the digging had been deeper. We were in a 



346 Brave Belgians 

trench that had belonged to the enemy and had been 
won by our men. There were niches in the walls, 
which had served as refuge during bombardments. 
By crouching down, we could get right into these 
niches with our knees up to our chins. At the end of 
the passage were some sacks, used for protecting the 
sentinel. The sky was blue above us, but we could 
not look at it, as our attention was given to the man 
lying there before us. 

"He was too daring," said a Corporal. "Yester- 
day, he came boldly in without stooping in the least. 
To-day I was here and, as I watched him coming in, 
I was just beginning to cry out: 'Sergeant, what are 
you doing?' when I saw him sink down. He fell there, 
against the side first, and then he rolled down." 

The man who spoke had the thin, stern-looking 
face peculiar to those who have suffered much during 
the war. 

"I have seen plenty wounded," he continued, 
"but never anyone like that whilst I was speaking to 
him. You cannot imagine the impression it makes." 

A man who was crouching down making the trench 
deeper, threw some earth over the parapet. Some 
bullets dashed against it. The face of the wounded 
man grew gradually more and more lifeless and his 
breathing became more difficult. In order to take 
him away, we were obliged to wait until the blue of 
the sky grew fainter and the darkness came on. To 
attempt anything else meant certain death. Every- 
one tried to say something, by way of helping to kill 
time. 

" He was not even on duty. He volunteered to give 
a hand in taking the post. 'I am better qualified 
than the others, Commandant,' he said, 'for risking 



Death of Charles D'Ansembourg 347 

my life. I am not married and I am not an only son. 
If I happen to disappear, I shall leave no one depend- 
ing on me.'" 

Leaning against the parapet, we waited there. It 
began to get gradually colder and colder, and our 
heads and limbs were feeling more and more the 
fatigue of three days' consecutive bombardment. 
Our eyes were fixed all the time on the motionless 
features of the man whom we had known so gay and 
so full of life. 

In the distance a mine exploded, giving a sudden 
shock to the ground. A part of the trench had blown 
up, it was a piece of the "Death Trench" that had 
disappeared in the air. An aeroplane then came and 
shooting followed it. The cannon now made its 
voice heard. The time seems long when one is 
waiting and watching and, as the wounded man's 
face changed, our hearts grew fuller and fuller, and we 
suffered acutely as we watched this life passing slowly 
away. Under the slight moustache, the white teeth 
could now be seen, the uninjured eye had lost its 
expression and brilliancy, and only one of the slender, 
sun-burnt hands moved. 

The sky over our heads began to get paler and paler. 
The white clouds then turned grey and mauve. The 
hour was approaching for us to leave and, creeping 
along, we went to see how the land lay, in order to 
decide which way to go. 

The green ground was all pierced with shell holes 
newly made in the dark earth. Spikes were to be 
seen everywhere, otirs made of wood, and the others of 
iron, protected by barbed wire. Rubbish of all kinds 
strewed the soil. On the other side of the winding 
Yser, the green and brown dyke looked like a cliff 



348 Brave Belgians 

rising above the water, that wonderful dyke against 
which the barbarous wave of invaders had lashed in 
fury and then died away. 

It was just the moment when the blazing light fades 
and every different colour stands out clearly. 

The piles of the two landing stages, made of planks, 
were plunged in the water. 

One of us pushing and the other pulling, we brought 
the stretcher to the little trench. The man who had 
been crouching like a rat at the riverside was to be 
seen again. He gave a low whistle and the raft came 
gliding along the water. On returning, weighed down 
by us, it dipped in front, thus breaking the wavelets. 

The entrance was very narrow. We had to carry 
the wounded man through labyrinths of passages with 
their walls of sacks of earth. This dyke, which, from 
the other side, looks so beautiful in all its greenery 
under the blue sky, showed up its ugliness and misery 
on our side. The whole trench had been devastated 
by the bombardment and behind it was nothing but a 
chaos of torn-up earth amidst pools of water. 

In the distance could be seen the plain, finishing in 
the horizon by a thin band of trees and houses, out- 
lined in black against the sunset. The bushes nearer 
to us were of a dense, green colour and the sky gradu- 
ally became livid and heavy, with a few streaks of 
bluish green. 

Darkness was coming over us and had already 
swooped down on the passages, with their medley of 
rubbish. The wounded man was now lying quite 
motionless, unconscious, with his eye swollen and his 
face rigid. He was wrapped round in a blanket. 

Caps in hand, officers and soldiers watched him 
pass away. With their earth-coloured coats, they 



Death of Charles D'Ansembourg 349 

looked like so many shadows. They listened in silence 
to the last prayers. 

In the growing darkness, he was carried away along 
the path under the willow-trees. A mist was stretch- 
ing over the plain and a fog was rising from among the 
reeds. For another moment we could see the dark 
outline of the stretcher-bearers. 

How many we had known who had come amongst us 
young and joyous! And how many of them had we 
seen carried away in the darkness, along the path 
under the willow-trees! . . . 



CHAPTER XXXVIII 
A Guard on the Yser: — The Death Trench 

(June 2, 1915) 

By Corporal J. Libois, of the I2th Line Regiment 

This day's work was more terrible than the Dixmude battles. 
I certify that Corporal Libois has given an exact account of the 
critical situation in the Death Trench of Milestone 16 on the 
Yser. Sub-Lieutenant Vueghs of the 12th Line Regiment. 

Extract from a letter, 12.Q.15. 

The French offensive of Arras led to unusual 
activity on our front. Our Regiment, which had 
just come back from the thankless Oostkerke Sector, 
had some very painful experiences during that week, 
and some of our Battalions were severely tried. 

On the night in question, our Company had to 
relieve guard. Certain sections were ordered to the 
outposts. 

"To-morrow," said Lieutenant Vueghs, "we shall 
occupy a position on the Yser dyke. Our various 
posts will be ranged along a communication trench 
that has been made by the Engineers, but in this 
trench, a result of recent attacks, there are still about 
thirty dead men. As we come across them, we are to 
pick them up and place them on the parapet. The 
stretcher-bearers will then take them away. One 

350 



A Guard on the Yser 351 

more word, this trench leads into the German lines 
on the other side of the Yser, and comes, therefore, 
under the enemy's firing. You will have to stoop 
down, and even creep along, when the passage is too 
low. There must be great caution as you go along. 
That is all I have to say. As for the rest, I trust to 
you." 

The Lieutenant was to command the sap head, 
Trench No. i. This was the most advanced of all 
the posts, only thirty yards away from the Boches. 
I was to be there too, and Sergeant Deltenre with 
about ten men. What would be the outcome, we 
wondered? At any rate, it would be something fresh, 
and we were delighted at this. 

The summer twilight came very gradually. The 
soldiers lined up, with their heavy knapsacks on their 
backs, and their wallets containing provisions for two 
days. 

"Right! Four in a line! March!" and quite 
tranquilly, the Company filed by in a long column, 
crossing the meadows and the fields of sweet-scented 
horse-beans. We went along humming and singing. 
Half-way, we had the usual halt and rest. The soldiers 
lying in the fields, in the dusk, gave a picturesque 
note to the scene. The purple-tinted clouds of the 
beautiful sunset of Flanders gradually took a pinky 
shade. In front of us, towards the east, was the 
horribly mutilated steeple of the Oostkerke Church, 
standing out, with extraordinary clearness, against 
the great red disc of the moon, which was just rising. 
And in the background could already be seen myste- 
rious stars flashing forth from the earth. These were 
the brilliant and ephemeral enemy fuses. Everything 
else was absolutely calm. From time to time, a 



35 2 Brave Belgians 

cricket replied to another cricket. A cool wind swept 
over us and, from the various groups, here and there, 
melancholy refrains lulled us and made us dreamy. 

Our officers appeared to be enjoying the poetry of it 
all, for they gave us a rather longer halt than the time 
fixed. 

"Laugh and sing," they perhaps thought, "be gay 
and joyful, a little later on, we shall, perhaps, bring 
back with us, the glorious remains of one or other of 
your comrades, now singing there!" 

On the Yser plains, there are probably places 
destined for many of us. Heaven knows that we all 
value life, and yet these thoughts do not make us sad 
and, thanks to a force of character which we never 
suspected, there is more liveliness and sincere gaiety 
to be found among the simple soldiers than anywhere 
else. 

Presently the order came to shoulder arms, and we 
set off once more. The calm that we had enjoyed 
was only a truce. It was now broken by the deafening 
volleys of our guns. The enemy's lines were being 
bombarded and it was a great joy to us to see the 
flashes over there, to the right, produced by the 
explosions of our shells. We had now entered 
the danger zone and the darkness was intense. We 
advanced in Indian file, one platoon at a time. In 
the background, lighted up almost all the time by 
the luminous fuses of the Germans, we could see 
outlines of figures bending down, stooping low, and 
then standing up again. It was like a scene out of 
some enchanted land. 

Finally, we reached our trenches. The relieving of 
the guard took place very quickly with no waiting 
about. The enemy was bombarding us, but the aim 



A Guard on the Yser 353 

was not good. We began to fit up and remake our 
shelters. I made a reconnaissance in the direction of 
the communication trench. The entrance was ob- 
structed by the evacuation of the dead bodies. We 
had a most awful task. The stretcher-bearers, 
moving along on their backs, dragged the bodies 
with them by ropes. These bodies were already in a 
state of decomposition and, when they came into the 
light, it could be seen that their clothes were torn off 
and that their skin was grazed. Shrapnels kept 
exploding near us, so that we had to keep close to the 
parapet. The night passed without any other inci- 
dent than the visit of the General of the Division. 
In the morning our watch was over and, when the 
lookouts were placed, we had permission to sleep. 
All day long we remained walled up in our trenches of 
sacks. From the Dixmude posts, which dominated us, 
the enemy kept an eye on us and, each time that we 
showed any sign of life, proved to us that we were 
very carefully watched. From time to time, by way 
of entertainment, our outposts were bombarded. 
At night, our time came for relieving guard again. 
We restored ourselves with coffee, for we were in a 
very thirsty place. We took a good provision of 
cartridges, of sacks of earth, and, with heavy shields, 
leaving our knapsacks in safety, we started, at 1 1 
o'clock, on our march through the Yser communica- 
tion trench. 

It was a march that appeared to us to last a century, 
and certainly Dante's imagination, in his visions of 
hell, never surpassed the horrors of it. The passage 
was narrow and skirted the parapet of the Yser. Its 
access was so difficult and trying, that it was no use 
thinking of removing the dead which obstructed it. 
23 



354 Brave Belgians 

We had to imitate the serpent, the toad, and the mole. 
In order to pass the guard we were relieving, the men 
had to lie down flat and we had to crawl over them. 
No one spoke a word. Shrapnels kept exploding and 
bullets whizzed along continually, flattening them- 
selves against the parapet. I saw some of them 
ploughing up the earth scarcely twenty centimetres 
above the heads of my comrades, and I was afraid 
each time that, in rebounding, they would wound one 
or another of them. We were all wedged in as though 
in a vice. At times, we had to advance quickly, 
bent nearly double, our backs almost broken, at times 
we had to crawl along, pushing ourselves onward 
with our elbows and knees, letting go our shields which 
encumbered us and which, knocking against the sides, 
made a sonorous noise. When we came to embattle- 
ments, watched as we were by the marksmen posted 
on the other side of the Yser, we had to rush for our 
lives. Our faces were bathed in perspiration. Sud- 
denly, we came across a dark, motionless mass on the 
ground. We thought it might be one of the engineers 
at work. 

"Hi there, what are you doing? Answer!" ordered 
the Lieutenant. Shaking his arm, we found that it 
dropped lifeless. 

"Forward! over the dead man!" was our order. 
Shuddering, and gasping for breath, we obeyed. 
Feeling for him with our feet and slipping over his 
head, we went on our way. Presently we had reached 
the spot known as "the house in ruins." The parapet 
had been torn away by a shell, and this might expose 
us to view. We had to climb and jump at the same 
time. Horrors! I fell with my hand on the icy face 
of a dead man. The German Artillery now came into 



The Death Trench 355 

play. The devilish Schoorbakke battery took the 
dyke by enfilade and bombarded us. The shells 
arrived whizzing along and bursting with a frightful 
noise, making the dyke crumble, and sprinkling us 
with all kinds of rubbish. There was a second's calm. 
By the livid light of the fuses, a horrible sight was to 
be seen, living men swarming along the passage among 
human fragments in a state of decomposition, the 
most appalling and terrifying wrecks of humanity 
imaginable. Horror, repulsion, and disgust were 
what we felt, but we were compelled to master our 
feelings. We had to be superhuman. The perspira- 
tion ran from our faces on to the dead men, as we 
climbed over them. And over our heads the bullets 
never ceased pouring down, whilst the shells whizzed 
along and the fuses kept lighting us up. 

Panting and breathless, with our tongues hanging 
out and oar backs aching so painfully that some of our 
men were just going to stand upright for a moment's 
relief when they were stopped by the whizzing of 
bullets overhead. We pushed on again and it seemed 
as though we should never be at the end of the 
passage. At one moment, we lost sight of the file and 
feared that we had passed the post. My brother 
headed the little group that had become separated 
from the others, and I closed the march. Fortunately 
we were able to join our comrades again. Just at this 
moment, we came to a number of corpses in a worse 
state than the others. We had to pass over them, our 
faces almost touching theirs, our knees on their legs. 
A terrible putrid odour emanated from them, an 
odour that will always be an infernal memory. Again 
we found ourselves knocking against some human 
bodies. But this time we were crawling over living 



356 Brave Belgians 

men. Finally, we arrived at our post. What a 
relief it was to us! Our end had been accomplished. 
We had relieved the guard and not one of us had been 
hit. Our instructions were simple. We had to keep 
a lookout and defend ourselves in case of attack. 
We thought we should have nothing to fear from the 
German Artillery, as their own post was so near. 
The one thing was to escape bombs and grenades. 
When the service was organised, we hollowed out 
some shallow burrows to serve as shelters. The 
Lieutenant passed me a bottle and told me to dis- 
infect a dead man buried in the trench, whose shoulder 
was visible. 

In order to prevent the Boches from approaching, 
we fired over the parapet all night without showing 
ourselves. Towards 4.30, when the dawn was break- 
ing, I started off in search of the body I was to dis- 
infect. A few yards away, just at the entrance of the 
next trench, I found a shapeless mass covered with 
linen. Was this the one? After a moment's hesita- 
tion, I raised the garment which covered a figure and 
saw a face. The features had not changed and the 
man looked as though he were asleep. I sprinkled the 
body with the liquid which the Lieutenant had given 
me and covered it again gently. The second corpse, 
of which the Lieutenant had spoken, was a little 
farther on. The shoulder was rather above the 
parapet. We covered it with earth and, towards six 
o'clock, the stretcher-bearers arrived to take the two 
dead men away. This was such a dangerous task, 
however, that the Lieutenant would not allow them 
to carry it out. They took away the other dead 
bodies and that made it less difficult to get out of the 
trench. By means of the periscope, I now looked at 



The Death Trench 357 

the German trenches, and thereupon that instrument 
became a target for their bullets. Projectiles now 
began to arrive from behind us. We wondered what 
this meant, and the Lieutenant sent word to Sergeant 
Denis, who was at the last post but one. We were 
informed that Sergeant Denis had just been killed 
by a bullet in the head. On passing by an embattle- 
ment, someone had called out to him to stoop down, 
but it was too late, a bullet had killed him instan- 
taneously. Poor Sergeant Denis. Yesterday even- 
ing, when I crawled over him, he said to me: 
"Good-bye, I shall see you again soon." I wondered, 
in spite of myself, whether the fate in store for me 
might make his words prove true. He had fallen 

against Corporal G , without uttering a word, 

but his eyes had been fixed earnestly on him. We can 
only hope that the Company will not have to deplore 
other losses. 

I took notes, thanks to the periscope, and I fired 
from an embattlement through a German embattle- 
ment. The enemy was not long in replying with 
dumdums, destroying our embattlement over which 
were the upper sacks of the parapet. On the other 
side of the Yser in the German trench, I could dis- 
tinguish a Boche periscope, and I was quite amazed 
to see a soldier's bust above the parapet. He did not 
stay there long. There was a long, soft, whizzing 
sound. This was something fresh: floo-oo-floo-00 — . 
They were grenades, some of which burst over our 
shelters, and some beyond them. Only a few were 
thrown and, dismal though their noise was, it did not 
alarm us. 

It was a beautiful, sunshiny day. Our aircraft 
could be seen against the blue of the sky. Our 



35 8 Brave Belgians 

machines were pursued by the shrapnels of the Boches 
but these did them no harm. Our Artillery was firing 
quite near to us and we had to take shelter from the 
shell fragments. Some of our men had lost their 
blankets, and some their provisions, during yester- 
day's march. They were separated from us by an 
obstacle. We passed them some food and exchanged 
some amusing notes. The Lieutenant, by way of a 
souvenir, took the signature of each occupant of the 
post, in his note-book. Others followed his example. 
And the day passed by very, very slowly. Whilst 
keeping watch, we talked with the Lieutenant about 
the war, about peace and our respective occupations. 
We talked about our preferences and our tastes, 
whilst, only a few yards away, myriads of big flies 
danced a ghastly saraband around the body of our 
poor comrade. The heat began to be overpowering: 
whiffs of warm, nauseous air kept rising and took 
our appetites away. By way of rewarding us, the 
Lieutenant promised us each a good glass, if everyone 
of Post I. returned safe and sound. It certainly would 
not be our fault if we failed to accept this invitation. 
At half -past twelve, the observer on the river bank 
signalled to us that an officer was on his round. We 
all smiled, thinking it was a joke. Colonel Rade- 
makers 1 of the 3rd Chasseurs suddenly appeared in 
the corner of our trench. We were amazed and 
wondered how he had got there. Had he come up 
from underground or had he fallen from the skies? 
Considering his size, it is certain that he could not 
have come through the passage without having been 
massacred fifty times over. He was there, neverthe- 
less, and very much alive, his fine face expressive of 

1 Killed a few days later by a shell fragment. 



The Death Trench 359 

his natural gaiety and of his great courage. He looked 
through the periscope, wondering whether the Boches 
would honour him with a bullet. He certainly was an 
officer of the "right sort." 

Night came on and the embattlement that had 
been discovered had its place changed, and was 
strengthened by a shield. We kept a still stricter 
watch. Towards 9.30, the firing became violent. 
A quantity of explosive shells burst on our parapet 
and gave us the impression that the Boches were on 
our trench and were firing point blank at us, so violent 
was the dry sound of the explosions. In our post, 
two of our guns would not fire any more. An attack 
seemed imminent. We prepared our bayonets and 
then fired without ceasing. One of our comrades who 
was completely worn out, and could not stand, was 
seated near us loading the guns for us to fire. It was 
midnight when the relief guard arrived. The orders 
were given while we continued firing. "Keep a 
watch on the bank. Attention at that battlement! 
On guard ! Good luck ! ' ' 

Our return was safely effected, but not without 
difficulty. It was easier than our coming had been, 
as most of the dead men had been evacuated. Finally, 
we were out of that hell once more. The whole post 
was safe and sound. Shrapnels were bursting quite 
near to us and here, in the first line trenches, where we 
had had to hide and press against the parapet yester- 
day, we felt that we were almost in security. We 
wanted to halt in the very midst of the danger zone, 
to get our breath, but the officers begged us to be 
prudent and we left the trenches. In the distance, we 
saw the stretcher-bearers carrying away the body of 
poor Sergeant Denis to the Lesenburg Cemetery. 



360 Brave Belgians 

We rested a little on the way, when we were in the 
rear, and each one gave his experiences, describing 
various incidents with picturesque details. Once 
more we set off, and at four in the morning we were 
back at our quarters. It was now light and the larks 
had been singing a long time. It seemed to me as 
though everything around us was quite new to us, 
and as though a century had passed since we had seen 
this familiar landscape. We felt intense satisfaction 
and deep joy at having accomplished a difficult task. 
Everyone was happy and longed to be able to write 
to his relatives and friends, to all those for whom he 
cared and whom he was now defending. 



CHAPTER XXXIX 
Nieuport in Ruins 

By Sub-Lieutenant L. Gilmont, Director of the Auto- 
mobile Park, Ocean Ambulance, La Panne 

When the battle of the Yser was over, and the 
Teuton hordes were stopped, Nieuport, the advance 
post of the immense front reaching from the North 
Sea to the Vosges, had to suffer pitiless destruction. 
It was the ransom we had to pay, because their in- 
effectual effort had been crushed by the steadfast 
defence of our heroes. I was present at the slow 
death of Nieuport and, as I had to go there frequently, 
I never passed by the heaped-up ruins without experi- 
encing a sentiment of infinite sadness mingled with 
revolt. How many times its faithful admirers ques- 
tioned me about its fate ! How the old city had al- 
ways charmed us by its exquisite archaism, with its 
little narrow, picturesque streets cut in straight angles, 
its quaint, yellow-ochre buildings with their green 
shutters, its church with the parvis planted with tall, 
protecting trees, its imposing Templars' Tower, its 
Archdukes' House teeming with memories, and above 
all its massive Cloth Hall, proudly situated on the 
Market Place. What pen can ever faithfully depict 
the havoc that seventeen months of war have made 
of the exquisite Flemish city we had all known and 

361 



362 Brave Belgians 

loved? As far away as Oostdunkerque, the vision 
of war begins. The population has been evacuated 
and here and there, along the streets, there are 
shattered houses. Then comes the winding road 
across deserted fields and the triangular wood, that 
ill-omened wood, where so many of our brave men 
fell, where the shells rained down with desperate 
persistency. At present, all is sad silence, disturbed 
only by detonations in the vicinity, by the sound of a 
cart passing, or by the measured tread of troops filing 
by along the edge of the road. On coming out of the 
wood, the horizon is suddenly in view and the sight 
is heartrending. In the background is the town in 
ruins, and all along the road little houses that have 
fallen in. On each side a former arm of the sea cuts 
the dreary moor, which is skirted by uncultivated 
meadows, partially wooded. Most of the sublime old 
trees are lying there, all twisted by the machine-guns, 
silent for evermore. Some of those which are still 
standing seem to be lifting their bare branches heaven- 
wards, in fruitless protest. We crossed the bridge 
and the level-crossing, with its little guard-house. 
The latter had fallen on to a cart, which now stood 
there unable to move under its unexpected burden. 
And there, with its Boulevard leading to the old 
station, all perforated now with enormous craters, 
are the first houses of the town. The deflagrations 
were all brittle, and we were in the very midst of 
the furnace. It was a vision of all that is horrible and, 
above everything else, there was that indescribable, 
persistent odour of rubbish, dust, and death. . . . 

Other martyred towns allow the spectator time 
enough to become accustomed to the frightful vision. 
The farther one goes, the more do the wounds appear 



Nieuport in Ruins 363 

huge and cruel. But here, the chaos and ruin strike 
one immediately. 

Nieuport, like Dixmude and Ypres, shared the sad 
privilege of an absolute and systematic destruction. 
There are rent walls everywhere and piled-up ruins, 
from which the most extraordinary fragments of 
rubbish emerge, showing all that remains of furniture, 
so often endeared to its owners by fond memories. 
Not a single house has been spared. The roofs and 
the floors, riddled by shells, are shapeless masses now 
lying on the ground. A few house fronts are still 
standing, showing the trace of streets all dismal and 
deserted, except when a few rare soldiers pass silently 
by, looking like so many wandering ghosts in the 
midst of fantastical scenery. The Market Place, 
adjoining the church, was specially aimed at. It is 
now unrecognisable, thanks to constant bombard- 
ment. In a corner, can be seen the massive outline 
of the Cloth Hall. It is disfigured by horrible wounds, 
but is still fascinating. It was one of the most in- 
teresting monuments of our Flemish art of the fifteenth 
century. The injuries of time, and those of men, had 
hitherto respected its primitive architecture. The 
roof, which was of a special technique, had escaped 
until now, but these last days it fell in, under a verita- 
ble avalanche of balls. Quite near to it stands the 
spectre of the ruined church. I could still see it, as it 
used to be, dominating the whole town with its 
imposing mass, interesting to contemplate and to 
study in every detail. It was original, too, on account 
of its various reconstructions, the traces of which could 
be seen in the different styles composing it, from 
primitive Gothic to the Renaissance and Louis XIV. 
And what is left now of all this? One night, it was 



364 Brave Belgians 

set on fire by shells, and the deluge of shrapnels, which 
immediately surrounded the building, prevented any- 
one from saving the least object. The vaulted roof 
fell in. Charred walls, riddled by shell fragments, 
now frame the columns which are still standing, 
supporting the graceful ogives that had been sullied 
by the odious aggression. Quantities of material 
lie in unequal piles; here and there a few decorative 
pieces, disfigured by their fall. It is an imposing 
looking skeleton, though, in its despair, and it seems 
as though it wants to remain there, as a witness, after 
its own death, to its past grandeur. 

One tragic relic of its wreckage still remains, and 
that is the Tower. In spite of numberless projectiles, 
its massive construction, devastated, but not con- 
quered, persists in dominating the horizon of Flanders. 
It had been constructed, primitively, to support three 
times its weight. It scorned the shells which wounded 
it without knocking it down, and its dark mass, 
proudly standing in the midst of the heaped-up 
ruins, seems to be defying the infernal inventions 
aimed at it. 

The cemetery adjoining the church is a most touch- 
ing sight. Loving hands have managed to keep the 
graves in order and they are covered with flowers. 
There are very many of these graves, and some are 
even on the paths. Not a single tomb is neglected. 
There are flowers, vases, statuettes, and ancient wood- 
work, side by side with figures of coloured plaster. 
All that could be rescued from the ruins has been used 
for honouring the memory of those who are no more. 
There is one grave which I shall never forget. It is 
surrounded by the ironwork of a child's bedstead and, 
with infinite care, climbing plants and flowers have 



Nieuport in Ruins 365 

been trained over this. In the centre, there are more 
plants, a crucifix and two statues forming a calvary. 

One night we were crossing this resting-place, where 
so many heroes are sleeping their last sleep, when we 
witnessed a touching scene. We heard the tread of ap- 
proaching footsteps and a murmur of voices. The chap- 
lain, in his surplice, advanced, reciting the Prayers for 
the Dead. Behind him, on a stretcher, carried by two 
sailors, was a long form. They went on their way 
slowly to the other end of the cemetery, where a grave 
had been prepared. They had to wait a little, as in 
order to find the grave they needed the light of the 
fuses. The body was lowered, a few more prayers 
were said, and then the dull thud of the earth falling, 
and that was all. . . . There was the most impressive 
silence, in spite of the cannon which kept vomiting 
forth death, and the almost uninterrupted crackling 
of the bullets. A few hundred yards away, the 
horizon, forming a semicircle was lighted up at 
quick intervals by the fuses which rose, throwing 
their reddish glow over the darkness, lighting up the 
dreary plain, on the screen of which the sombre mass 
of the tower, and the irregular lines of the dismantled 
pilasters and of the arches, stood out all the more 
distinctly. A terrified bat turned wildly about in the 
air, seeking a shelter that it could no longer find. 

I remember that I spent that night at the relief 
station of the Fusiliers, where I found a shelter for my 
men and where I was most hospitably treated. In a 
cellar, adjoining the one in which their poor wounded 
comrades were lying, a bed was very quickly made for 
me. The walls of this improvised bedroom were 
papered with red, striped paper, comfortable furniture 
was arranged here and there, and I should certainly 



366 Brave Belgians 

have slept, and not thought any more about the war, 
if it had not been for the sound of the cannon, the 
detonations of the grenades, and the clack of the 
bullets which, from time to time, came flattening 
themselves against the outside of the wall. 

At 3 o'clock, I was called, and we went on to the 
Town Hall, to do some work there at daybreak. It 
was absolutely calm just then ; not the faintest sound, 
not even the slightest detonation could be heard to 
disturb the great silence. We arrived at Rue Longue 
and I saw the beautiful Louis XIV. facade once more. 
It was so characteristic, with its double flight of stone 
steps. It stood there almost intact, in one of the 
angles of the two streets that it ornaments. We went 
up one flight of stairs and entered the Museum through 
the bay window. We stopped short in front of a huge, 
gaping hole, obstructed by all kinds of material. Two 
shells of 420 calibre had fallen there, taking away with 
them the whole of the back of the building. When we 
had finished our work, before leaving what had been 
the Museum, I looked out at the horizon. There was 
a wider view from there now, thanks to the fall, one 
after another, of the crumbling gables. I could see the 
line of the Yser, and the canals, the destroyed houses 
of the lock-keepers, and, in the background, the great 
downs. I then glanced at the place where the huge, 
documentary picture of the Siege of Nieuport used 
to hang. I had fetched it away in 1910, and the 
Kaiser, on his visit to Brussels, had stopped a long 
time looking at it in a thoughtful, interested way. . . . 

On our return, we passed through the town again. 
It was just rousing to its military life. The firing had 
recommenced, and from time to time a bullet whizzed 
through the air. 



Nieuport in Ruins 367 

As we passed by, we looked at what had been the 
relief station for the sailors. We had seen so much 
suffering there. Our colleague, Chopard, had been 
hit near by and had died there. On leaving the town, 
we passed along the country roads. The sun was 
shining brightly and it bid fair to be a glorious day. 
The most fragrant odours came to us from the woods, 
and the fields were all refreshed with the dew. The 
birds were singing. . . . We came to an inhabited 
farm. Children were playing outside, careless of all 
danger. The father was moving to and fro, attending 
to his usual daily work. In front of the half open door, 
the mother could be seen feeding her baby. The 
hours we had lived through seemed now like a horrible 
nightmare which we would fain forget. When we 
came to La Panne, the bell of the Convent of the 
"Pauvres Claires" of Nieuport, which rings in the 
little tower of the simple Ocean Chapel, reminded us 
that it, too, had witnessed tragic moments. Poor 
little bell! It seems to me that I can see it falling 
down from its graceful bell-tower, after the brutal and 
monstrous blow given by the murderous shell. I can 
still hear its rebounding fall above the noise of the 
tumbling walls, in the midst of the ghastly furnace. I 
could hear its last echoing groan, a last protest against 
the odious destruction. Go on ringing timidly, little 
bell, in the calm of this bright morning, a calm only 
disturbed by the noise of the work of death. Very soon, 
that song shall be followed by another one. You shall 
ring out then, to all the echoes, the song of joy, the 
song of victory, announcing to the crowd, thrilled 
with joy unspeakable, that the hour of the great 
deliverance has arrived, the hour when we shall find 
our heroic Belgium free once more and born anew ! 



CHAPTER XL 
The St. Elisabeth Chapel 

By Marcel Wyseur, Registrar to the Military Court. 
La Panne, August 26, 1915 

(To the patriotic devotion of M. Louis Gilmont) 

Everyone knows of the admirable institution 
founded by Dr. Depage at La Panne: "The Ocean 
Hospital. " A few miles away from the firing line, 
he has entirely created an establishment which is the 
most perfect thing of its kind, an institution which, 
for the last year, has rendered immense service daily. 
Ever since it was opened at the end of 1914, this 
hospital has been continually enlarged. Various 
detached buildings and several fresh departments 
have been added to the house as it first stood. The 
latest improvements, as regards science and hygiene, 
have been introduced and it does not seem possible 
that a more complete organisation, answering so 
thoroughly to all needs, could be carried out at the 
front. In rendering homage here to those who are 
responsible for this work of public service, we are 
only anxious to bear testimony to its utility and to 
acknowledge the merit of the founders of the institu- 
tion and of all their devoted collaborators. Doctors 
and nurses alike deserve more than the gratitude of the 

368 



The St. Elisabeth Chapel 369 

Belgian army and people. They deserve our admira- 
tion too. 

The last Sunday in August, we were present at the 
Inauguration of one of the fresh additions to this 
immense "everything" which constitutes the Ocean 
Hospital. It was the Inauguration of the Chapel. 
At the limit of the downs, this simple church, which 
has sprung out of the earth, as though by magic, 
faces the sea and the country. It is a building on 
primitive architectural lines, surmounted by a little 
sturdy spire. Nothing more was necessary. It was 
certainly a most impressive scene when the little pro- 
cession of believers wended their way to the service, 
called there by the bell of the Convent of the " Pauvres 
Claires " of Nieuport. The three naves were soon full. 
In the choir, Her Majesty the Queen, who had gra- 
ciously deigned to be present at the ceremony, had 
taken her place, and behind her were a crowd of 
wounded soldiers. The altar reflected the light of all 
the burning tapers, the incense was smoking in the 
silver vessels, and, over yonder, between the nave and 
the choir, the organs were singing of joy and happiness. 
The good saints and the little chubby angels could 
neither believe their eyes nor their ears. The poor, 
who had expected to die in the general earthquake 
when their churches were bombarded and the infernal 
battle was raging around them, arrived here now from 
everywhere; from Nieuport — the Dead; from Caes- 
kerke — the Sorrowful ; from Pervyse — the Devastated ; 
and from Ramscapelle — the Solitary. One evening, 
they had all met in a room. A lamp was burning in 
front of a tabernacle, there was a kneeling bench for 
communion, a confessional-box, a pulpit, and some 
saints, too, as astonished as they were themselves. 
24 



370 Brave Belgians 

Were they really not dreaming now? Was their 
nightmare over? This was a church, a real church 
like their own! It was full of people, too, and the 
psalms were being chanted by the choristers. All this 
seemed more beautiful than the finest dream, and at 
this festival they forgot all their past anguish and the 
nightmares they had lived through. And in the midst 
of the general devotion, the Reverend Father Henusse, 
chaplain to the 84th Battery, pronounced the following 
eloquent words : 
"Madame, 

"We are to-day inaugurating a Chapel, which, in 
our gratitude, we have spontaneously dedicated to St. 
Elisabeth. In the liturgical intention of this dedica- 
tion, St. Elisabeth was that admirable woman, 
Elisabeth d'Anjou, a heroine of goodness, gentleness, 
and charity, whom the Catholic Church has placed 
on its altars and about whose touching glory everyone 
has heard. In our dedication, there is something else 
though, and no one, at any rate no Belgian, will make 
any mistake about this. In our eyes, the good saint 
of the twelfth century has been reincarnated in the 
twentieth century. A few rays from her halo have 
come to encircle another forehead. Her name is 
repeated once more, but with an accent of veneration 
and of tenderness, more keenly felt than would be the 
case for a foreign Queen who died long centuries ago. 
In short, according to us, the Ocean Chapel has two 
patron saints. The one is reigning in heaven above 
in glory, and only lives on earth in the memory of 
Christian generations. The other patron saint is 
She who reigns over the last sands of what was Bel- 
gium, but who lives in the hearts of us all. 

"When the long ordeal of this war shall have come 



The St. Elisabeth Chapel 371 

to an end, this humble chapel of wood, which we 
hope may become historical, will be clothed afresh in 
a mantle of stone and adorned with the splendour of 
souvenirs in its coloured glass windows, and in its 
frescoes. We shall certainly see then the sweet face 
of the gentle Elisabeth d'Anjou, and the miracle of the 
roses and the miracle of the leper will be evoked for us. 
We shall see the leper whom St. Elisabeth tended with 
her royal hands, to whom she gave her husband's bed, 
and who suddenly rose, dazzlingly bright, uttering the 
one word: 'Elisabeth' for the leper was Jesus Christ! 

" But by the side of those windows, Belgian mothers 
will ask for others and for other frescoes. 

"They will want to see their Queen, who in time of 
peace, cared for their little children, their poor little 
children, some of whom were consumptive through 
poverty. The}^ will want to see their Queen, who, 
when war broke out, cared for their big children, their 
poor big children, wounded and mutilated, their 
health shattered by battle. Belgian mothers will 
want to see her there, near to the other Saint, so that 
they may kneel to her and tell her, whilst on their 
knees, of the ardent gratitude of their hearts. They 
will want to see her there, because it is her place, 
beside Him — who pronounced those superhuman 
words which created Charity: 'Inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, 
ye have done it unto me. ' They will want to see her 
there beside Christ, who spake the name of Saint 
Elisabeth so tenderly, and who, to-day, will surely 
call another saint by that sweet name, with that 
accent of infinite tenderness which we all utter, 
Madame, in the respectful and fervent silence of our 
hearts. 



372 Brave Belgians 

"Madame: 

"My dear friends: 

"The great royal heart which thought of estab- 
lishing a military hospital on the coast, on the very 
edge of the battle-field, and the generous hearts which 
helped in the realisation of the project, wished to 
make this establishment as perfect as possible. 

"They have succeeded, and our Ocean Ambulance 
excites universal admiration. 

"By opening this St. Elisabeth Chapel, perfection 
in this humanitarian work has been attained. The 
chapel is an essential part of any hospital. A chapel 
is necessary everywhere where man suffers, as it is a 
place for prayer. Suffering possesses the mysterious 
privilege of striking a man hard, of making him think 
about life. It throws him back on himself, as it were, 
makes him weep, remember, and dream, and when a 
man gives himself up to this great inner work, he is 
not far from finding God. He is ready to pray. 

"Suffering, too, possesses the precious gift of humili- 
ating a man, of making him feel the nothing that he 
is, and of making him realise of what little value he is, 
and when man is humiliated, he is not far from feeling 
God bending down towards him. He is ready then to 
pray. 

"Finally, the effect of suffering is often to plunge a 
man into deep distress, which makes him so unhappy 
that he utters the supreme cry: 'Help, oh, help 
me!' 

"And when a man cries for help from the bottom of 
his heart, he is not far from hearing within himself, as 
though in answer to his appeal, the echo of that 
infinitely sweet voice which has soothed the miseries 
of the world for twenty centuries : 



The St Elisabeth Chapel 373 

"'Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy- 
laden, and I will give you rest.' 

"This is why the instinct of a man who is suffering 
is to enter the temple. 

"Go to the darkest nave of a church, at a moment 
when the crowd is not bidden to the traditional exer- 
cises of worship, and what do you see? Women, men, 
and young people praying, and, on their faces, in their 
eyes, in their very gestures, one sees that they have 
experienced sorrow, anxiety, and sadness. 

"Ask your mothers who are waiting for you, over 
yonder, in the deepest anguish, where they go in their 
sorrow and suffering? They will answer you, 'To 
Church.' 

"At the present moment, ask where the suffering 
country takes refuge, now that it is mourning for its 
lost liberty. The answer will be: 'In the Churches, 
where the presence of God still permits the people to 
have the comfort of seeing their tri-coloured flag, of 
hearing the national hymn, and of responding to it 
with the cry of love and hopefulness : ' ' Long live the 
King! Long live Liberty!"' I tell you that every- 
where where there is suffering, there should be a 
chapel, in which to shelter one's suffering, under the 
protecting wing of God! 

"But if there be one place of suffering in the world 
that needs this holy refuge specially, it is the war 
hospital. The reason of this is on account of the 
nature of the suffering that men endure there. What 
is the reason of all this suffering? Why are you here 
sick and wounded, with your arm or your leg ampu- 
tated, scarred for ever in the beauty and prime of 
your early manhood? Why? For the sake of your 
brothers. The enemy arrived at the frontier, threaten- 



374 Brave Belgians 

ing that sacred property, the native land. In order to 
defend that land, occupied by seven millions of free- 
men, two hundred thousand of them rose and, seizing 
their guns, marched forward to meet the invaders. 
These two hundred thousand went forth to fight, 
struggle, fall, and die if necessary for the sake of all the 
others, for the sake of the women, the children, the 
aged — and even for the sake of the cowardly shirkers 
who have not even yet grasped what is their duty. 
The suffering then of these men, our soldiers, is a 
suffering of immolation, of sacrifice, of devotion, a 
loving sacrifice. 

"You see, then, why you need a chapel, where you 
can come to find Him who revealed to the world the 
beauty, the value, the fecondity of this suffering, a 
chapel to which you can come and contemplate the 
Crucified One, the Man of Nazareth, who left us, 
saying as He went : ' Love one another, give your lives 
for each other; the great proof of love is that we should 
be ready to give our lives for those we love.' He went 
about repeating this until that day when, still quite 
young, only thirty-three years of age, in the prime of 
His manhood, adding example to precept, freely and 
courageously, and, in the sight of His broken-hearted 
mother, He took up the cross and dragged it along 
through the city and across the country to Calvary. 
He was then stretched upon it and for three long, 
mortal hours, under the rays of the sun, He hung 
upon that cross, dying for those He had loved. 

"You need a chapel for those evil hours when, 
suddenly, you fail to understand the meaning of your 
suffering and begin to pity yourself, wondering why 
the lot should have fallen on you, why you should 
have lost that arm, that hand, that fine workman's 



The St. Elisabeth Chapel 375 

tool which was your glory, and with which you earned 
your living? 'Why should my life be cut in two by 
this mutilation? ' you ask. 'Why should my youth 
come to an end half way? Why should I be doomed 
to drag out a miserable existence? Why is all this? 
And of what use is all that blood poured out obscurely 
in the trenches? ' 

"When these gloomy thoughts come to you and 
your soul is filled with bitter agony, you need a chapel, 
to which you can come and hear the divine reply to 
your human complaint, the reply given by that very 
mouth which revealed to the world the benefits of 
suffering, the value and the virtue of blood that is shed 
for the sake of love. It is here, in this chapel, that 
He will repeat to you and explain to you the mysteri- 
ous words He addressed to His disciples, three days 
before He went up to Calvary. 

"'Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and 
die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth 
much fruit. 

'"And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw 
all men unto me.' 

"His disciples did not understand this at first, but 
gradually their eyes were opened to this new light, 
and very soon the world knew the law of life, which 
was to be one of the most beautiful truths of Chris- 
tianity: 'When a just man dies, out of his suffering 
and death shall spring wonderful fruits of light, of 
truth, and of justice, and life shall become better 
thereby. ' The martyrs gave their blood courageously, 
and on their tombs their brothers repeat joyfully the 
great Christian words: 

"'Sanguis martyrum semen Christianorum ! ' 
(From the blood of martyrs have sprung Christians !) 



376 Brave Belgians 

"You will come here, dear friends, to learn to 
understand the sublime utility of your wounds and of 
3^our suffering, to learn that the trench is not a trench, 
but a furrow, and that the blood you have shed there 
is as a seed which will soon give its beautiful fruit of 
happiness and liberty to those you love. Thanks to 
your blood, your country will live! Come often to 
this little chapel, where Christ is always awaiting you. 
He awaits you here as His brothers, as those whom He 
loves best, who resemble Him the most. Come here 
and pray and remember that your prayer is the most 
efficacious one of all those that are uttered on earth, 
because it is your blood crying to God. Come and 
pray for all those for whom your heart is filled with 
love, for your aged mother, for your little children and 
for those who are awaiting you in your saddened home. 
Pray that they may have hope and courage given 
them. Come and pray for your brothers-in-arms, 
those who are continuing the great struggle in which 
you fell whilst doing your part as brave men. Pray 
that God may keep them courageous and strong. 
Come and pray, too, for the men and women who 
are devoting themselves so admirably to you here, 
for those who are helping to relieve your suffering 
and to heal you. Pray that they may have strength 
given them to carry out their work of pure abnegation 
and charity. Come and pray for the great cause of 
the Allies, the cause of right and justice, which is the 
cause of God. Pray too, that He may soon make it 
triumph gloriously. Come and pray for our beloved 
country, the noble martyr to honour. Pray that our 
country may know, as Christ knew, the great repara- 
tion, the supreme rehabilitation, and that after having 
descended to death, to the death of the Cross, our 



The St. Elisabeth Chapel 377 

country may be raised by God, that she may obtain a 
name above all names, that every head may bow- 
before her in the whole universe, and that every 
tongue shall confess that this little nation is truly great 
among all nations. Come and pray, come and pray 
often for Him and for Her who represent, so mag- 
nificently, oar country and in whom it is incarnated 
for us. Come and pray for the King and for the 
Queen." 



The End. 



Belgium 

and 

The Great Powers 

By 
Emile Waxweiler 

12°. $I.OO net By mail, $UW 

The eminent scholar, Emile Waxweiler, 
Director of the Solvay Institute of Sociology 
at Brussels, presents a thesis which it will be 
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With calm, dispassionate judgment, he up- 
holds Belgium's right to oppose the violation 
of her territory by Germany, citing with tell- 
ing force the Treaty of 1839, and subsequent 
events of international importance, such as 
Lord Palmerston's action at the time of 
threatened French aggression in 1848. 

G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York London 



Belgium: 

Neutral and Loyal 

The War of 1914 

By 
Emile Waxweiler 

Director of the Solvay Institute of Sociology at Brussels, 
Member of the Academie Royale of Belgium 

12° . $1.25 net. By mail, $1.35 

In order to clarify opinion and to correct 
wrong judgment, the author has not deemed it 
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their Application to Belgium." 

G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York London 



"The War and 

Humanity" 

By 
James M. Beck 

A Notable Sequel to "The Evidence in the 
Case" 

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Revised and Enlarged Edition 
Nearly 400 pages. $150 net By mail, $1.60 

At All Booksellers 



G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York London 



The 



in 
the Case 

A Discussion of the Moral Responsibility for the War of 

1914, as Disclosed by the Diplomatic Records 

of England, Germany, Russia, France 

Austria, and Belgium 

By 
JAMES M. BECK, LL.D. 

Late Assistant Attorney-General of the U. S» 
With an Introduction by 

The Hon. JOSEPH H. CHOATE 

Late U. S. Ambassador to Great Britain 

/ 4th Printing — Revised Edition with much Additional 

Material 
12°. Over 280 pages. $1.25 net By mail, $135 

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reading, and we are not surprised to hear not 
only that it has had an immense sale in England 
and America, but that its translation into the 
languages of the other nations of Europe has 
been demanded." — Hon. Joseph H. Choate in 
The New York Times. 

New York 6. P. Putnam's Sons London 



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